Love Is A Flame
by Hotlen
Summary: It is the fall of 1944. Luke is a 19-year-old American soldier in France. Reid is a German doctor who is drafted by the Nazis to work in their POW camp. During a battle Luke gets injured and captured. Reid and Luke meet and a love story quickly follows.
1. Chapter 2

Title: Love Is A Flame

Author: Hotlen/Stonehouse

Summary:  
>It is the fall of 1944. Luke is a 19-year-old American soldier in France. Reid is a German doctor who is drafted by the Nazis to work in their POW camp. During a battle Luke gets injured and captured. Reid and Luke meet and a love story quickly follows, but this love must remain a secret under the watchful eyes of the SS. Think: "A Farewell To Arms" meets Lure and WW2.<p>

Characters:  
>Luke (19), Reid (in his 30s), Katie (in her 20s), Noah, Casey and Kevin as other American soldiers. There are also SS, German soldiers, Nazi's, and the Snyder family.<p>

Rating: R- NC-17 for language, sex and violence

WARNING:  
>EXTREME NOAH HATE, I mean Noah turns out to be the worst person on Earth in this story.<p>

IMPORTANT:  
>Because many of you are wary about my stories I promise there's a few twists, but a very Lure ending will be waiting for you.<p>

Chapter 1:

I drop the water-purifying tablet into my canteen and watch it disintegrate as it sinks to the bottom. The hard earth pokes unevenly against my back as I lean against the foxhole. I pull my helmet down over my eyes with a yawn, ready to nap. An hour ago we were trekking ten miles across the French countryside before arriving here and digging in. Beyond our foxhole a thick forest of trees spreads out to the East. Somewhere inside the mess of tangled branches the German front marches towards us. General MacArthur positioned my regiment along the forest border to ambush the Germans when they finally emerge from the trees.

"You gonna eat that?" I turn to see Casey pointing to my prize possession; a tube of M&Ms my parents sent me.

"Hell yeah I'm going to eat it!" I slap his hand away.

"Oh come on, Snyder, you've had them forever."

"I'm saving them."

"For what?"

"I dunno."

Casey scoffs, "You better eat them now before you die. Speaking of which, when you die can I eat them?"

"Real nice Casey!" Noah pipes up from the other side of Casey's head.

"I'm being realistic."

"You didn't even say 'if'," Kevin, who sits beside me, comments.

"OK, sorry. If the unfortunate moment of your demise happens upon you while I'm here may I eat your M&Ms?"

I laugh and pick up the tube, throwing it at Casey. "Knock yourself out since they seem to mean so much to you."

Casey claws at the package savagely. "Thanks man, I knew you were an alright guy."

I roll my eyes. "Why don't you write home for some?"

"My parents are lazy." He mumbles, melted chocolate covering his teeth. I look away disgustedly. "You always get packages."

"Hey, share some." Noah slaps Casey's arm, and Casey shakes some chocolate candies from the tube into his hand. Kevin reaches out across me and Casey dumps a few chocolate pieces in his hand also.

"You want some Luke?" Casey mumbles over another full mouth.

"Oh my how generous of you to offer me my own candy." I snicker. "No, it's OK, knock yourself out. I was thinking maybe some rehydrated orange juice and a packet of pork and beans would be on the menu for tonight."

"What I wouldn't give for some real food." Casey sighs, tipping the now empty tube over his hand and shaking it, hoping for a few more morsels.

"I hear after this fight we're going to be shipped back to base camp." Noah situates himself in front of Casey so that the four of us sit in a lopsided square.

"They always say that." Casey sighs, throwing the tube across the foxhole.

I tear the top of the orange juice carton off with my teeth and pour in some of my now purified water. I shake it around to mix the orange powder but it never tastes the way my grandma makes it fresh squeezed every morning. I pull my helmet once again over my eyes and sip on the grainy orange juice willing my mind to be anywhere but here.

Fall is quickly approaching. The trees around Snyder pond will soon change color and fall from the sky, floating on top of the water, turning the pond into a kaleidoscope. I love swimming in the pond at autumn, feeling the wet leaves cling to my body as I float. Looking up through the changing leaves made it seem like the sky was on fire. Every now and then a peaceful wind would rake through the leaves making them shudder and sparks of fire fall to the Earth.

My father would come by in the wagon to fetch me for dinner. I'd ride back with him on the hay bales, my wet skin sticking to the dry grass. All season my body would soak up the scents of the dying earth and I would smell of the heated beauty in it.

Grandma would bake pie after pie from the buckets of berries we'd pick from the farm. My favorite was her blueberry, followed closely with rhubarb. We never went hungry during the year, but at harvest time we never went unstuffed. Grandma cooked way too much food and force-fed the entire town.

Grandma always reminded me of Mrs. Claus. She has a round body, curly hair, a jovial laugh, and her cheeks are always rosy from the oven. Grandma is the nicest most giving person I have ever met. Her home, though small, is open to anyone who needs a roof over his head, and food is open to anyone who needs food in his belly.

Her son, Holden, my dad is the second nicest person I know. He loves his Mama with all his heart. He'd do anything for her, or for anyone. When I have a problem he's the first person I go to. When I received my draft notice he was the first one I told. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Luke, I don't believe in violence and I do not like war, but you are brave and patriotic and your country has called you to serve." Even so I cried for a week about it until I couldn't cry any more.

My mother, Lily is prone to the dramatics. When I told her that I was called to war she broke down in sobs no one could console. All she could mutter was "My baby, my baby!" for days. When I boarded the plane for basic training she didn't come to see me off. I know she's my mother and I love her, but she's not the best person to have in your corner. She's self absorbed and selfish, forgetting for the most part that she has children because she's caught up in her own melodrama. I tend to steer clear of her.

My sister Faith is the only one of my siblings to really understand what war means. She had seen Adolf Hitler on the TV and read the headlines of the newspapers. She seemed not to care that I was drafted, and went about her life as usual, but the night before I shipped off she came in to my room and told me that she was scared. I gave her a big hug and told her I would be careful. She pulled away, nodded curtly, and left. I knew inside her 13-year-old body were emotions that she could never express.

My sister Natalie couldn't really understand where I was going. My parents didn't want to frighten her so they said I was going to serve the country in France. She doesn't know what war means, they keep her away from the TV, and I told her I was proud to go and serve the country. She seemed fine with that when I smiled. I write to her all the time, and in second grade sentences she writes me back.

Ethan is my only brother and he's five years old. To him I've gone away to summer camp, and now that fall is approaching and school is starting he thinks that I'll come home. I hope that he is right. My father sends me pictures Ethan draws for me. Mostly of our horses, the farm, the family, and sometimes he draws pictures of me fishing and camping. My dad says Ethan told him the pictures are of me having fun at camp.

"Fun," I mutter to myself as I feel the butt of my M-1 press against my thigh where I propped it against the foxhole wall.

"Earth to Luke," Kevin's hand slaps my helmet off my head.

"I'm trying to sleep, Kevin, leave me alone."

"Touchyyyy." I grab my helmet and put it over my face, blocking out the late summer sun.

"Come on, Luke." I hear Casey's voice warp through the metal of my helmet. "We're going to play poker for cigarettes."

"You can have mine." I mumble.

"Oh come on. Noah, deal him in."

"Aren't you exhausted?" I ask sitting up, my helmet tumbling to my lap.

"We're playing poker, not exactly strenuous."

My eyes dart to the line of trees that rustle in a swift breeze that picks up across the clearing. "One game."

"Five games."

"Three games."

"Deal." Casey grins; Noah begins handing out the cards.

"You know it could happen any second now."

"What could?"

"The Germans crashing through the trees with a wall of rapid gun fire."

"You think too much, Snyder, now ante."

After Casey's fifth straight win I threw my cards in his face and turned my back, hoping to take my long awaited nap. I could hear Noah, Kevin and Casey goofing about me, but my eyelids were too heavy and my muscles too weak to respond. Besides, they meant no harm.

Casey is an easygoing fun-loving kind of guy. His floppy blond hair matches his personality. He's not the shiniest link in the chain, but I enjoy his company, especially for his ability to make war into a joke. Without him I'd go insane. Casey comes from a working class family in Detroit, Michigan. His parents work in the factories building jeeps. Casey and I met at basic training. He slept in the bunk above mine and we hit it off right from the start. We were put in the same unit and shipped off to France together. We met Kevin in our travels to our station in France.

Kevin is an easygoing guy much like Casey. His blonde hair is shaved short and he has deep brown eyes, much like me. He's also an athlete, was on the basketball and baseball teams in high school. His family owns a general store in his hometown in Iowa. His mother is an elementary school teacher and he has two younger sisters like me. The three of us got real close in the few days we traveled together to base camp. At the base is where we met Noah, our Staff Sergeant.

Noah is an army brat from all over the world. His father fought valiantly in The Great War and was awarded two purple hearts and the Medal of Honor. Noah is much more serious and by the book than either Casey or Kevin. I know it's from his upbringing and his overwhelming determination to make his father proud. He's not a complete stick-in-the-mud, Casey can usually lighten him up and the three of them find pleasure in teasing me. The four of us became tight quickly. It feels nice to know there are people who have my back, especially someone as trained as Noah. The camaraderie and friendship is a welcome change from my life back home.

In Oakdale I'm not very popular. In a small town everyone knows your business and I'm the weird kid with the drinking problem. I had been popular up to my junior year of high school. I was the captain of the basketball team and led Oakdale High to their first state championship. I was the winner of an esteemed writing award, and I managed to get on the dean's list every semester. In junior year my life started to change for the worse. Feelings different from other boys my age began creeping up in my mind. I would look at my guy friends the way they looked at girls and I knew something was wrong. I told my parents how I felt and my mother had a major panic attack. She went so out of her mind that she needed to be sedated and hospitalized. My father seemed to think I'd outgrow my feelings and so didn't pay much attention to them. My family turned their back on me so I turned to alcohol, my amber best friend. In some ways being drafted was a gift. I could escape my troubled confusing life and have something to focus on. I could forget my feelings and my tendencies, my perversion and my sickness. All I am is Private Snyder from Illinois. Another body to fill their quota, another target for the Germans. Life seems easier in the fields of France. You live or you die, and there's not a helluva lot of time in between for other thoughts.

"Hey Snyder, take a look at my girl." Casey pokes me in my side.

"I've seen her." I grumble shooing him off, trying to go back to sleep.

"Come on man."

I groan, knowing Casey even for this short time I knew he wouldn't relent. I sit up, putting my helmet on, and take the picture from his out stretched hand. It's a black and white school picture of a beautiful slim blonde girl.

"There she is." Casey says with pride. "Alison. I told her when I get back I'm going to marry her. She's a nurse in Detroit. "

"Very beautiful." I say handing the picture back.

"Look at mine, Luke." Noah hands his picture over of a curly longhaired girl with a round face. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"She's great Noah."

"Great! She's one in a million!" Noah cries incredulously. I force a smile and hand the photo back.

"Since we're all sharing." Kevin grins and digs out a photo from his pocket and hands it over. The photo is mud smeared but I can see the brilliant smile and wide doe eyes of the girl in the photo.

"She's got a great smile." I say encouragingly.

"Lemme see." Casey rips the photo from my hand and passes it between he and Noah.

"What about you, Luke?" Kevin asks. "Got a girl?"

Suddenly I feel hot under the collar, my eyes shifting between Kevin, Casey and Noah as they look on expectantly. "Um, no. I live in a small town, practically related to all the girls." I force a laugh. "I'm going to go to Chicago though when I get home." I lie. "Find me a honey."

They crack up, putting their pictures away, mumbling about what a lucky son of a bitch I am to go to Chicago and find an experienced girl. I laugh awkwardly with them and hide my blushing face beneath my helmet.

"Have you ever been laid, Snyder?"

"Wha…what?' I jump, caught off guard by the question.

"Laid, sex, make love, whatever you want to call it." Kevin explains. "Have you ever done the deed?"

"Oh, sure, yeah, lots of times." I lie weakly.

"You lying shit." Casey laughs.

"Well have you?" I retort.

"No, Alison is a stick in the mud, she won't even let me take off her bra."

"I hear ya there." Kevin lamented, "Josie won't even let me kiss her with tongue. She says it's undignified."

"Dude, you guys are pathetic." Noah laughs.

Casey, Kevin and I turned our heads sharply to Noah. "So have you?"

"Hell yeah I've had sex with Maddie."

"Lucky bastard." Casey swore.

"It's only because he's older." Kevin justifies.

"You guys are dating prudes. Maddie loves having sex."

"You guys are sick." I groan, not wanting to think about touching a woman that way.

"Jealous is all you are."

"Why would I ever be jealous of you having sex with your girlfriend?"

"Fiancée"

"Whatever."

"OK guys break it up, we're fighting the Germans here not each other." As if on Kevin's cue black figures began to rustle the branches of the anterior trees.

"Guns ready boys!" Our commander shouts.

We all dig down into the foxhole, grabbing our guns and pointing them to the tree line. I hold my helmet closer to my head. Press my face against the dirt wall of the foxhole and breathe in soil. The dying Earth, like back home at the pond, is all I can smell. The thundering of my heart against my ribcage is all I can feel; faster and faster as German orders and breaking branches came closer. I close my eyes and pray to God I'll make it out alive, to see my siblings grow up, to hug my grandmother again and fix the ever breaking tractor with my father one last time.

I look to my left to see Casey grinning, chewing on a piece of gum as if this were a walk in the park. Noah has sheer determination plastered on his face, and to my right Kevin looks at me worriedly and shrugs.

A breath passes my lips and then all I can hear is the ringing of gunfire and the wail of explosions.


	2. Fire Fight

There is a gap in space-time. I stay still while time moves forward. I see the first mortar sail through the air and break the shell of earth around me. Dirt flies upwards as if the Earth sprang a leak. Heavy ragged breaths create a soundtrack to the German's advance. They move in slow motion, their angular bodies pronouncing each movement like a ballet; from the way their pants stretch over their knees as they bend, to their shirts that rise and fall over their chests with each breath. The sun slices across their faces like shards of yellow glass. The air is thick with anticipation, the ground relaxes, waiting, breaths mixing, twisting together. The overwhelming silence, broken only by respiration, hallows my gut. I felt empty, void of emotions or thoughts, I live on sensory information without subtext. It feels like hours that I sit here watching the sparks fly from their guns, watching the dirt dance around me, listen to ragged breaths and breathe stale air. Casey shoves me down into the foxhole and the moment is gone.

Deafening rounds of ammunition burst at every angle as we open fire on the Germans who advance towards us through a cloud of smoke and dirt. Soon cries ring out between the bullets, wails of pain, gurgles of blood as men, American and German, fall like dominos, crashing into others still standing. The Germans advance like zombies, their clothes ripped and tattered from the long march through the woods, their faces are skewed as they bark orders in muddled words I don't understand.

I refill my M-1 and continue firing. I close my eyes not wanting to know where my bullets go. I hear the wail of a grenade land close by me. I grab my helmet and hold it close to my head, covering my ears as the explosion rings through the vibrating ground. Earth rains down on me, rocks thunder like hail against my helmet and soon a searing sensation rips at my stomach, pulling apart my skin. I look down to see the metal shards of shrapnel burrow their way into my intestines, blood spilling out from their holes, soaking into my fatigues. I touch my seared and bloody skin as if in a dream. The blood is sticky between my thumb and finger and runs in dark streams down my side and pools at the bottom of the foxhole. I will myself to take deep calming breaths, I know I am still alive for the sounds of war still fill my ears, I can smell the burnt ground, the musty gun fire.

I hear a groan and look to my side as Kevin slumps down beside me. His stomach is open wider than mine; his intestines escaping like thick worms. I close my eyes and look away, swallowing down the vomit that swells in my throat. My eyes begin to droop; the ground looks so soft. If I could take a nap, close my eyes… wait for the war to end. Wait for the Germans to disappear back into the shadows of the forest that birthed them.

The dogs are barking closer, and I am lying on the shore of Snyder Pond. I can smell the rotting Earth of autumn. I feel the loving caress of wind through my hair. The grass is so soft, like a cloud I can float on. I am sailing across the water, away from the Germans, away from the angry dogs.

I open my eyes and am blinded by the late afternoon sun that cuts through the tress like a knife. I feel another sting against my shoulder, than another lower down on my bicep. It feels comforting, warming my chilly blood. I can feel the sun soaked pond water washing over my shoulders as I float upon it, staring up through the changing leaves that turn the sky to fire.

An overwhelming smell of seawater and metal wafts up in a wave of heat from the blood soaked soil. I sit up with great effort, my belly stiff and sore. Ribbons of blood flow down my arm, dripping to the ground [i]_piddle piddle_[/i] from my fingertips. I hold my hand up to the light turning it over, marveling at the design the blood has painted on my hand. Everything feels wonderful.

I turn with a goofy smile to Casey, but he is not there. Replaced is a pile of skin and bones covered in an American uniform. A German bullet has taken his face. I smile sadly and reach out my good arm to pat his helmet "Good old boy." I laugh.

"Lay down your arms!"

I look up past the top of the foxhole to the black figure that approaches. I can see the swastika on his armband; it looks stitched from the blood dripping off my fingertips. I stumble up the side of the foxhole, grabbing onto twigs and roots, pulling myself up. I fall face down on the still smoking ground. My belly shoots pain against my hip but I do nothing to relieve it. I watch the Germans' boots step closer, the buckles sparkling under the sunlight. His shadow creeps over me like the blood oozing down Casey's disfigured face. My gun is nowhere near me, I discarded it long ago.

I raise my good hand over my head, "Surrender!" I yell up to him.

"What to do with him?" I hear him mumble to his comrade.

"Bring him with the others."

"He is wounded."

"Then let him die."

"No, no please!" I stumble as I try to stand. "Please bring me to the hospital!"

The German glares. I see him raise the butt of his gun towards me…


	3. Chapter 3

I groan hoarsely as consciousness overtakes my body. My organs feel fuzzy as if cotton balls replaced my blood. I open my eyes but all I can see is a distorted white glow, like when you stare at the sun too long and then look away, everything is over saturated and blurred. I can hear a woman's voice speaking somewhere far off. Then footsteps and my body bounces back and forth as whatever I lay on is jarred.

"I see the patient has woken up." A gruff voice says. I look towards the voice but can't make out any details so I shut my eyes again. "Maybe I spoke too soon." I hear as if through water. I groan again and try to turn on my side. A sharp pain slices through my spine and I lay still once more.

"Private Snyder." I hear a woman's voice say.

"Are you a magnet, Private Snyder?"

I swallow the dry saliva in my throat and croak, "What?"

"You seemed to attract shrapnel."

"Who are you?"

"A doctor."

"Where am I?"

"Not the brightest bulb in the box are we? I'm a doctor, where the hell else would you be besides a hospital?"

"Be nice, he still has anesthesia in him."

I groan, trying to sit up. The doctor places his hand against my chest and pushes me back down on the bed. "Relax, I put hundreds of stitches in you and I don't like it when patients ruin my beautiful craftsmanship."

"Blood pressure is 116/66, temperature 36.4 degrees, respirations 7." I hear the female voice again.

"Take his urine for analysis," the deeper voice says.

I can feel a tube jostle between my thighs as the people around me shift places. My legs are cold for a moment as the blanket over me is lifted and then replaced. I force my eyes open all the way. I stare up at a metal low hanging roof. Hospital beds line up side by side each other on both sides of the room. Some beds are positioned in the middle of the aisle. Doctors and nurses walk between the beds checking on their patients. On either side of the long room are two doors and men in heavy boots and black uniforms stand guarding them.

"Oh shit." My heart starts pounding; my body finally awaking with panic at my sudden realization. These aren't Americans; they are Nazis. I shot up in bed, trying to drag my body away. I notice the swastika on the German doctor's arm as he holds it out to hold me down.

"Get off me!" I scream.

"Settle down."

"Please, please you're mistaken, I'm an American!"

"Oh well I'm sorry, we'll have to get you a first class ticket on the next boat out." He rolls his eyes. "You're in a German POW camp."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Kill you? I spent hours digging around in your insides removing pieces of German bullets, why the hell would I kill you now?"

"You were… inside me?"

"Don't get too excited. Although I must say you do have a beautiful sigmoid colon."

"What?"

"Nevermind, get some rest Private Snyder."

"Why did you save me? Why not let me die, that's what this war is about."

"First off, I'm a doctor and what I do is save people, American or otherwise. Second of all, ever heard of something called the Geneva Convention?"

"No."

"Well then never mind."

"Are you a Nazi?"

"Are you an asshole?"

"What?"

"Not all Germans are Nazis, not all Americans are assholes, although most of them are."

"So since I'm not an asshole…."

"Jury is still out on that one."

"Then you're not…"

"No, I'm not a Nazi. Do I look like an idiot to you?"

At his suggestion I finally raise my eyes to the doctor's face. His handsome features, long angular nose and chiseled jaw, immediately strike me. Auburn curls grow from his oval head and the most brilliant blue eyes I have ever seen, eyes that Germans would use for propaganda, bore into me.

I smile satisfactorily, "No you don't."

"Thank you. But you could still be an asshole."

I laugh at his comment, "They must love your eyes."

"Oh yes, beautiful Aryan blue," he bats his eyes at me.

"They are quite stunning." I say and quickly bite my lip.

He looks at me with his ever-present smirk, "Yours aren't so bad either," he winks.

My body shivers under his gaze and I grab onto the blanket tighter. As I try to stretch my right arm muscles a zing of pain slices through my shoulder "Ow!"

"Be careful with that arm, you had two bullets lodged in there pretty deep."

I look over to my right bicep; the bandages taped around it have circles of deep red blood. "Am I going to lose it?"

He laughs as if I've said the stupidest thing in the world, "No of course not. Why the hell would I spend so much time repairing the damaged tissue if I were going to cut it off later?"

"I… I don't know." I say confused, my mind clouding again.

"Get some rest, Private Snyder," he says, patting his hand against my knee closest to him, "I feel you aren't thinking straight. I'll be back later to check on you." And with that he turns swiftly, his white coat flowing behind him as he marches down the aisle.

I lay back in bed, closing my eyes and feeling a calm peace wash over me. Although I feel the presence of SS in their heavy commanding uniforms, carrying guns and radical ideological ideas in their minds, I feel safe. The doctor makes me feel safe. They teach you in basic training that all the German soldiers are evil, ruthless, and bloodthirsty. Not the doctor, the doctor is different. He had joked with me, batted his eyes, even complimented my physical appearance on more than one occasion even though I'm sure my beautiful bowels was a joke, maybe for a doctor they are a rare find? I smile to myself but erase it quickly as I see an SS guard shift his gun out of the corner of my eye. I fall asleep dreaming of the doctor's blue eyes. Their intensity, like the sun directed by a magnifying glass, start the beginning smoke of an early fire that begins to ignite inside of me.


	4. Chapter 4

"Good morning Private Snyder," I hear a soft voice beaconing me awake.

I open my eyes to be met with long straight golden blonde hair. The nurse is pulling back the dressing from the incision in my side and dabbing stinging oil to the scar. I hiss suddenly and she pulls back her hand. She looks up and smiles at me. Her eyes are a softer blue than the doctors, but just as calming, erasing away the fear that the swastika on her arm brings.

"You need to be disinfected."

"Sorry, stings." She nods sweetly and presses the oil soaked cloth gently to my scar. I hold back my yelp so as not to sound like a baby. "Is there going to be food or something?" I ask, my stomach growling with emptiness. The last thing I remember eating was the powdered orange juice before the firefight.

"Doctors will do their rounds and then as long as they say it's OK breakfast is given."

"I'm starving."

"Breakfast won't stop that," she says sadly. "You'll get a piece of bread with some margarine and thin coffee at best."

"So no steak and eggs, huh?"

"I'm afraid not. The Red Cross packages for you guys haven't arrived yet. They come few and far between now as you are bombing our railway. We don't eat much better than you guys anymore, I'm afraid."

"You're not a Nazi either, are you?" I whisper.

"No," She says back just as quietly. "Just a girl who lives close by and helps the GIs."

"My name's Luke." I whisper back. "Yours?"

"Kathleen, but people call me Katie. To you I'm nurse Paretti though, if anyone is listening."

I smile knowingly, "Nice to meet you Katie."

She giggles like a schoolgirl and tapes fresh bandages to my incision site. I watch her soft face as she works, there is still baby fat in her cheeks, and I assume she can't be much older than I.

"Dr. Oliver, who do we have here?" I look up to see the doctor and an older German with a hard stern face who wears not the doctor's white coat but the Nazi uniform pressed, shined and tailored exquisitely to his body.

"Private Snyder, Commandant."

The Nazi Commandant looks at me as if I am a piece of meat, "When did he arrive?"

"Came in yesterday late afternoon, two bullets were lodged into his right arm and I found a mess of shrapnel in his large intestines."

"Sounds like a lot of work to keep a Kaugmmisoldaten alive," he spat. Dr. Oliver and Katie laugh weakly at the Commandant's apparent German joke. "Be glad you are not a Russian, we have other places for them." He laughs, showing his yellowed teeth. I shudder and turn away, looking instead to Dr. Oliver's crisp white coat.

"We give him 1.5ccs of morphine every two hours to keep the pain down. As you can tell he's alert and responsive."

"Wonderful Dr. Oliver, you certainly have lived up to your hype." He slaps Dr. Oliver on the arm and I can see the quick flinch he gives at the gesture. "Fine work," the Commandant says with one last look my way before walking away, checking in with another doctor across the aisle.

"How are you feeling today Private Snyder?"

"Hungry."

"Aren't we all?" Dr. Oliver grabs my wrist, his soft fingertips gently caressing the vulnerable underside, pressing against the artery.

"Katie tells me… Nurse Paretti… that no one eats well anymore."

"Amazing what war can do, huh?" He drops my hand back to my side and it shivers without his warmth. "I'm sure Katie… Nurse Paretti can scrounge you up some bread and margarine," he winks. I feel my stomach flip and not from hunger.

"Where am I anyway?"

"I thought it was painfully obvious you are in a hospital?"

"But you're all Germans."

"A POW hospital."

"So I'm a prisoner…"

"I like the term guest of the Reich," Dr. Oliver laughs.

"Dr. Oliver that's awful." Katie suppresses her laugh as she pulls her lips thin.

"So what happens when I'm healed?"

Katie turns to me to answer, "You'll be taken to a barrack where I suppose you get to stay until the war ends. You can work if you want; we have concerts you can attend; some of the prisoners play sport games in the yard. They do roll call every day, mail comes once a week, incoming and outgoing."

"Mostly you'll be starving and bored." Dr. Oliver adds.

"What if the war ends, and you guys win?"

"Then you'll probably be killed."

"Stop it." Katie scolds Dr. Oliver, pressing a hand against my shoulder. "Don't scare him." She bends down to me and presses her lips against my ear. "Between you and me the Germans only have a few months to go. Don't worry about it." She pulls back and smiles. I relax under her soft blue eyes.

"Thanks." I whisper.

She runs her fingers through my greasy hair. "I'll come back with your breakfast and maybe a sponge bath for you," she winks.

I couldn't help blushing under her teasing gaze. She giggles softly and walks away.

"Have the hots for your nurse, Snyder?"

"Oh, no Dr. Oliver."

"Really, because you're blushing like a schoolboy."

"She makes me nervous."

"A little hot under the collar?"

"Oh nothing like that." I say a bit too definitely. Dr. Oliver gazes into my eyes again, they attack right to my soul. I can tell in the flash of a flame in his irises he's found something he knows too.

He nods certainly to me. "Whatever you say." His eyes linger on me, rolling down my body, but it is not a doctor's clinical gaze. Finally he turns quickly and walks away.

I let out the deep breath I'd been holding in my chest. Could Dr. Oliver be like me? No, there's no way. He's a German, a Nazi he can't be… but then he said himself he's not a Nazi, but then why is he here? Why does he joke with me that way, call certain physical aspects of my body beautiful, let his eyes search my soul and linger on my body. Why does he wink all the time after his words? Maybe he knows, maybe he can tell what I am and is messing with me. Maybe, like the people of my town he thinks I'm a joke. What if I've been giving off signals? What if the Nazis know?

Panic tightens my chest and once more my breathing becomes labored but not because of the injuries I have sustained or the pain that slowly begins to prickle at my side. I suck in audible breaths as my heart starts to hammer, perspiration dripping in my eyes, my head zinging with lack of oxygen, the room turning greyer every second. Thousands of eyes appear in front of me steely blue and cold. The eyes belong to Nazis not the gentle eyes of Dr. Oliver and Katie. The Nazis are watching me, hunting me, waiting for their moment…

"Luke?" Katie is by my side. I can feel her press a cool cloth to my forehead. "Are you in pain?"

"Oh God, Katie!" Tears clutch my throat.

"Shh, Luke it's OK." The damp cloth feels good against my heated skin. Her soft blue eyes replace the rabid Nazi ones and the fear begins to subside. They can't know, no one at home knew until I told them. Everyone was shocked, no one believed me. Dr. Oliver said the Nazis are idiots. They don't know me better than my own family and my own family didn't know.

I sigh deeply in relief and smile gently to Katie's worried face as my heart begins to settle down. "Sorry, I think everything hit me at once, I felt a bit overwhelmed."

"A lot of these boys are scared." She drops the cloth into a washbasin and hands me over a thick cut of bread slathered with margarine and a tin cup full of thin brown liquid. "It's the best I could do."

"Thank you." I say sincerely, taking a bite out of the dry crusty bread. I use the thin coffee to help the bread slide down my sore throat.

"You should rest. It's not good to get worked up after what your body's been through."

"You're right. Thank you, for being so nice to me."

"Are you in any pain?"

"A little bit, on my side."

"I can ask Dr. Oliver for some morphine for you, put you right out."

"That would be good, thank you," I say, not wanting any more time for my mind to run wild with dangerous thoughts.

"Tomorrow is mail day, so if you want I can get you some paper and a pen so you can write your folks."

"I don't think I could stomach telling them I've been captured."

"So lie," she laughs, patting my head as she stands.

"Dear mom and dad, I'm having a wonderful time in France." I laugh.

"Sounds good to me. Now eat up, I'll get you that morphine."

I finish the rest of my bread and coffee before Katie comes back to administer the morphine. With one last glance Dr. Oliver's way I fall asleep peacefully, somehow feeling protected.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_A few days ago I was in a battle, as you can tell I survived. Casey and Kevin, my buddies in the regiment – I have written about them to you before – were killed. I don't know what happened to Noah, but he's not in the hospital with me, so I presume he's dead also. I got shot a few times but the doctors stitched me up and I am good as new. I have a new address now that I am in the hospital that I will write at the end of my letter. My doctor, Dr. Oliver, is very nice to me. My nurse's name is Katie and she is pretty and sweet. Please send M&Ms in your next package as I gave mine to Casey, and I am glad I did. Don't worry about me I am doing fine and am well taken care of. Love and kisses to you all. I think about you all the time. I hope to come home soon._

_Love, Luke_

Something tickles my nose and I sniffle at mucus made from unshed tears I didn't know my body had created. The last few days have been a haze, a dream, not real, imaginaryI want to go back and tell Casey goodbye, give him a proper farewell instead of me loopy from shock laughing and joking at his disfigured body. He was my best friend, the best friend I'd ever had and I only knew him for a few weeks. I guess that's how life is, you get to know people and then they're gone.

I sniffle again and wipe the stinging tears off on the back of my hands. "I miss my mom and dad," I whimper to myself, my chest beginning to tighten in sobs. I want to go home.

"Are you leaking Private Snyder?"

I look up through glassy eyes to see Dr. Oliver standing above me. "Excuse me?"

"Leaking, the tears."

"Leave me alone."

"As lovely as that would be for me, I can't."

"What's your deal? Why are you here? You don't act like you want to be here."

"No I decidedly do not want to be here, but alas here I am."

"You're German, you're in Germany, why not go home?"

"If only it were that easy. I was forced here against my will."

"By the Nazis?"

"No by the Pope, yes of course by the Nazis, you really are slow aren't you? I should take a look at your brain."

"My brain?"

"I'm a neurosurgeon, well, I'm trying to be. I'm going to revolutionize the medical field. That's what I was doing in Vienna before the war broke out."

"A ner-what?"

"Neurosurgeon, it means brain doctor."

"Wow. You must be really smart, no wonder you're so pissed you're stuck here."

"You know what really ticks me off? The ridiculous research the Nazi's are throwing all their time, money and energy at."

"What kind of research?"

"Genetics, most specifically and stupidly they are trying to prove that Aryan genes are superior to all other heredity. Maybe they could be right, probably not, but they are trying to prove it with experiments that have no basis in science. More like torture if you ask me."

"What are they doing?" I ask cautiously, not sure if I want the answer.

"I'm not one hundred percent certain, but I read a few papers before the war broke out and it all seemed fishy to me."

"You're really passionate about medicine."

"And what are you passionate about Private Snyder?" He leans over me and scans my letter that lays face up on my lap. "M&Ms possibly, or this Casey boy?"

I grab my letter and hold it against my chest, covering the words. "How dare you, this is private. Casey was my friend! Is my friend… was my, whatever!" I sputter, flustered.

"Well if he's dead then he was your friend." Dr. Oliver says coldly.

"Do you have something medical to do with me or are you just here for amusement?"

"Well you have been quite entertaining."

"You can go now."

"That's the thanks I get for saving your life. You know when you came to me you were hanging to life by a single thread. Don't forget that."

"Thank you for saving my life." I say sarcastically, "Would you like a present now?"

"Yes." He smiles satisfactorily.

"What would you like?"

Once again his eyes spark fire as they wander over my body. His tongue juts out to wet his bottom lip as he surveys me. I shift uncomfortably under the blanket that has suddenly become too warm. "How about those M&Ms you are writing home for?"

"You can't be serious."

"You seem to covet them, so if you really are thankful you'll give them to me. What are they anyway?"

"You don't know what M&Ms are?" I laugh.

"No, we don't have them in Germany. I'm assuming they are a type of food?"

"Chocolate, with a hard candy coating that keeps them from melting in your hand."

"Interesting. What clever things Americans dream up."

"We dream up non-melting candy, you dream up wars."

Dr. Oliver laughs, his eyes twinkle like starlight. "I think you're starting to feel better, your brain is actually beginning to function."

"Oh why is that, because I can be as witty as you? You know the last person who ate my M&Ms died so you might want to re-think your payment."

"I can think up plenty of ideas as payment from you."

I swallow hard. His eyes are doing that thing again, where they pierce into me, fanning the flames of what is that? Desire? I'd never actually desired another man before. Never wanted to kiss or touch intimately. I liked looking, I enjoyed watching how the male form moved, but I'd never wanted so badly to touch it, to touch him. Dr. Oliver with his heated blue eyes.

"You're starting to look pale, Private." He grins. "Get some rest." Dr. Oliver turns and begins to walk away.

"Wait, Dr. Oliver!" I call out to him. "Stay." Dr. Oliver turns back to me, a confused look on his face. "I like having you around."

Dr. Oliver smirks, "No one likes having me around."

"I do, it's nice to have company."

"I'm not your baby sitter, I'm your doctor."

"Please? For a little while?"

"And what do you suppose I do? Sit here and tell you a bedtime story?"

"No, but we could play cards."

"I play chess."

"Do you have a chess board?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Then cards it is." I reach over the side of my bed painfully grabbing for my pack.

"Let me, I told you I don't like people ruining my craftsmanship." Dr. Oliver shoves me back in bed and pulls my pack onto his lap. He reaches his arm in blindly, searching around for the deck of cards.

"What the hell is this, Private Snyder?" I look over to see Dr. Oliver pull out a pin-up poster of a naked woman, her ass in the air towards the camera, looking over her bare shoulder with red pouty lips.

My cheeks instantly grow red as I try to grab the poster away from Dr. Oliver but he sits on the side with my bum arm. "The army gave me that."

"This is what your army gives you?"

"Yes, now put it away."

"Ever use it?"

"Use it for what?" Dr. Oliver gives me a knowing look. "No! Oh God no, gross."

"Why not? She's attractive, well OK she's naked, that's all you need right?"

"She's probably somebody's sister!"

Dr. Oliver chuckles and puts the poster back in my pack. "What other dirty items do you have in here?"

"I thought you were looking for cards?"

"This is proving wildly more entertaining than poker." He shoves his hand back down in my pack and wrestles around before pulling out a small package. "Pro-kit?"

"Oh God." I groan, sinking down into the bed, wishing to disappear.

"What's in here?"

"It doesn't matter." I mumble.

Dr. Oliver rips the package open and pulls out the instruction sheet, tube of ointment, and wipes. I can tell he's trying hard not to laugh. He knows exactly what it's used for. "Now this is much more useful than a naked girl picture."

"Excuse me?"

"When you're older you'll understand." He throws the things back into my pack and finally pulls out the deck of cards, letting my pack fall to the floor. "So, what'll we play?"

"Poker I suppose." I mumble, unable to look Dr. Oliver in the eye.

"Private Snyder are you embarrassed?" Dr. Oliver says with a chuckle.

"You went through my personal belongings, how would you feel if someone did that to you?"

"I have nothing to hide."

"That's a bunch of malarkey."

"What?"

"Malarkey, American slang for bullshit." I grin.

"Sounds like a species of bird."

"Yeah? Well Oliver was the name of my dog."

"That's a bunch of malarkey."

"It's true. I grew up on a farm and we had a dog named Oliver."

"What happened to him?"

"When the railroad came through our town he got hit by a train."

"Wow, dumb dog."

"Shut your trap."

"Don't tell me, he was your best friend?"

I shrug, "Something like that." I couldn't help but remember the days I spent with Oliver by the pond. I'd throw a stick out in the water and he'd swim in after it. When the town learned about my twisted feelings Oliver was the only one who didn't seem to mind. He still slept at the foot of my bed, still greeted me at the door when I got home from school, still tackled me and licked my face caking it in slobber. When one of the town's people found his collar on the railroad tracks my heart was broken. I spent the remainder of my senior year quiet and depressed, and then my draft notice came and added to my misery.

"You picked one dumb best friend." Dr. Oliver's voice speaks through my memory.

"You know what? Why don't you go play 52 pick up by yourself?" I growl, turning my head away from him, afraid he'll see me 'leak' again.

"Oh calm down, I'm having a bit of fun with you that's all."

"It's not fun for me. I take back my offer to hang out."

"Come on." His voice is gentler now as he begins to deal the cards. "Five card stud, deuces wild."

I sniffle back my tears as silently as I can, holding my cards high to cover my reddened eyes. Dr. Oliver doesn't seem to notice as he watches his cards, or if he does, he's learned not to comment. I relax as the image of Oliver fades from my mind, the only living thing to comfort me through my hard time.

"How many cards?" Dr. Oliver asks.

I look up from my cards and smile, "Three."


	6. Chapter 6

"I've come for a rematch." I look over and see Dr. Oliver walking towards me, shuffling a deck of cards between his hands.

"You really are a sore loser."

"Kept me up all night," he smirks.

"I bet."

Dr. Oliver pulls a chair up to my bedside and begins handing me cards. "Five card stud, queens wild."

I lift my cards up to my face and chuckle, two queens and two kings. Today is not Dr. Oliver's day.

"Have you ever heard the term poker face? You really need to get one."

"I've never been good at this game. I think you're the one who deals me all the luck."

"Alright, I fold, what did you have?"

"Two queens and two kings." I say laying down my cards. Dr. Oliver looks at them unbelievingly before scooping them up quickly and putting them back in the deck.

"Practice round."

"Uh huh."

He deals again and we play a few rounds, I go easy on him and keep bad cards and toss good ones. By the third hand his mischievous smile is back on his face and his eyes are sparkling along with it.

"Guess your luck ran out, Private," he says gleefully as he grabs the cards back into the deck.

"Too bad we weren't betting with anything, you'd be a rich man."

He shrugs. "It's nice to hang out, I don't really have anyone to hang out with here."

"Dr. Oliver I think you're starting to like me."

"Don't flatter yourself. You happen to be the least annoying idiot in this compound."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Shut your trap and deal."

I laugh, dealing the cards out. I watch his nimble fingers grace over the back of the cards, spreading each one evenly. His eyes appear directly above the cards, intense and focused as I assume they would be in surgery. I feel a blush creep up my cheeks as I remember him saying he'd been inside of me and I pull my cards up higher to hide my face. Those long slender fingers have run over my body, touched my skin, known me intimately, vulnerable, naked.

I can feel a stirring down at my groin. The heat of desire has traveled down my spine and engulfed my pelvis, which now twitches uncomfortably with each spark. His eyes are relentless, his body so close, his fingers stroking each card delicately, as his beautiful mouth hums a soft tune as he surveys his cards.

Stop it, stop it, stop it! I yell in my head, willing my body to stop feeling this way. To quench the desire with a bucket full of cold water poured directly on my now aching cock. Stop it, please, stop, don't feel like this.

The terror in my body has put out the flame. The fire dies away but leaves singes on my soul from the perverted game my body plays. This needs to stop. I can't live like this. When I get home I'm getting married, mom will see to that. She wants grandchildren; she wants to be a grandmother. She wants to throw a lavish wedding for her eldest child. I can't feel like this. I have to find a way to fix the defect inside of me.

"Dr Oliver," I begin, "do you ever get the feeling there's something wrong with you?"

"No." he says without looking up from his cards.

"Oh, well I think there's something wrong with me and since you're a brain doctor maybe you could help?"

Dr. Oliver lays his cards down on his thigh and looks at me concerned, "What is it?"

"You have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Who would I tell?"

"The Nazis? They can't know about this."

"Your problem, Private Snyder, is safe with me."

"Ok, well, I get these feelings, these thoughts."

"You're going to have to be more specific than that, human beings have lots of different feelings and lots of different thoughts most of which are perfectly normal."

"I don't think these are," I whisper. Dr. Oliver raises his eyebrow but says nothing, allowing me to continue. "I don't know how to say this."

"Well you're the one who brought it up."

I look down at my cards and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "About men," I blurt out. "I think about them the way I'm supposed to think about women," I whisper.

"Oh that?"

"Oh that?" I say incredulously. "You wouldn't be so flippant if it were you who has these feelings."

"It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal!" Dr. Oliver glares at me in warning to keep my voice down. "How can you say that?"

"I don't know how things are in America, but before the war Berlin was a haven for people like us."

"Wait, people like us?"

"Homosexuals."

"Wait, you too?"

"Do you think you hold a monopoly?"

"But you're a doctor, a German!"

"So I'm immune?"

"So it is a disease?"

Dr. Oliver groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not a disease, you didn't catch it, although if it were a disease it would be the best kind to catch."

"You're not being serious about this. I have a serious problem. When I get home from war, if I get home, my mother wants me to marry!"

"Why do you care what your mother wants you to do?"

"You don't understand! I told her about my feelings and she freaked out. She wants me to be normal."

"You are normal," Dr. Oliver says sternly.

I shake my head, my throat tightening with emotion, "I'm supposed to like girls."

"So go marry a pretty blonde. Why are you asking me about this?"

"Because you're a doctor, you can help me."

"I told you it's not a disease and there's nothing wrong, I have nothing to fix."

"But I don't want to be this way!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Dr. Oliver, is there a problem?" Dr. Oliver and I both look up to see the SS guard stride to the foot of my bed.

"No, we are playing cards and the Private here is trying to cheat."

"You can not trust Americans. We must remember this one is sneaky. I will tell the other guards to keep a careful watch on him."

"I don't think he'll try to go anywhere. Not with his bum arm and stitched up stomach."

"You do too good a job Dr. Oliver, he will probably be well soon." The guard takes one last hard look at me as if he is capturing my face to memory before returning to his post at the door.

Dr. Oliver glares at me once the SS guard is gone, "If you think it's such a problem then you fix it, but we can't discuss it here." I watch him grab the deck of cards and leave.


	7. Chapter 7

"Look what came!" Katie's singsong voice snaps me from the hypnotizing pages of the magazine I absentmindedly flip through. I look up as she drops two brown parcels on the edge of my bed.

"Where did those come from?"

"One is from the Red Cross, and one is from Oakdale Illinois."

I smile excitedly and toss my magazine to the floor, reaching for the packages with grabby hands. Katie hands me the smaller one from my parents. I rip off the brown paper wrapping and open the box. Inside I find M&Ms, more magazines, a get-well card drawn in crayon from Ethan, and a letter from my father.

"I'll leave you alone." I look up to see Katie's soft smile as she taps my foot before leaving.

I unfold the letter quickly, taking in a sharp breath from the way the army issue paper smells, soaked in the essence of the Snyder kitchen. I close my eyes and see my father sitting at the kitchen table as Grandma Emma makes a batch of fresh applesauce from the orchards. The sharp cinnamon comes back to me, the warmth from the stove. I can see my father in his worn jacket and boots, holding a pen in his calloused hands as he writes this note to me.

I open my eyes once more, looking at the messy block penmanship of my father. I don't want to read it because I don't want it to end. I want the tether to my family thousands of miles away from me to last. Once I read the last word I'll be back in German, back in a hospital bed surrounded by Nazis. Another part of me though, the majority, wants the piece of home to escape to.

i_Dear Luke,_

_This is the third letter I have started to you. The first one was much too formal, as if writing to a stranger. The second one was much too bland, boring. I don't know how to express how I am feeling. I would be so scared for you if I knew you were hurt, but you said that you're already healing so I guess I don't need to worry. Your mother was put to bed for a few days because she was so sick with worry for you. It took her a few days to calm down and realize that you are already in the good hands of the American Medical Core. _

_I don't want this letter to get stiff and formal, so I'll try again. I'm not sure what you'd want to read. I imagine you are lying bandaged in a hospital bed somewhere in France. Do you know if they are going to send you back to the states when you heal or if they will put you back on the front? I do hope you come home soon. _

_The news sounds promising though, that the front is getting closer and closer to Germany on both sides, the German's are retreating. Hopefully it doesn't last much longer. _

_I'm sure you are sick of war talk so I will move on. We went apple picking a few days ago. I know you saw him only a few months ago, but Ethan has already grown tall enough to pull apples off the lower branches. He's so proud of himself. Mama made apple pie yesterday, and at the risk of making your stomach envious, I'm eating a piece now as I write this. If it would keep I'd wrap a piece up for you and put it in the package. _

_Faith started middle school a week ago and she seems to think that means she is an adult now. She doesn't listen to us, gives your mother grief every day. She refused to come to the orchard with us to pick the apples. I wish you were here, Luke, you always could get through to her. Forget about that though, you don't have to worry about us, your job is to get better. _

_I bought you the M&Ms you asked for. I hope they are enough of home to keep you from being home sick. Ethan also drew you a get-well card. He thinks you got hurt playing a game at camp. I think it's easier for him to think in those terms so I don't correct him. I have to admit that knowing you are stuck in a hospital safe and sound makes it easier for me to sleep at night not having to worry if you are getting shot at. _

_Well, I'm going to let you go now, Luke. We're all sending you love and prayers, all of Oakdale. We can't wait for you to come home. _

_Love, Dad/i_

I slowly fold the letter back up, wiping at my eyes that are dry but feel like they should have tears. I put the letter back in the box and open the crayon drawn card from Ethan. In the front is a wobbly looking heart, inside it says GET WELL SOON in equally wobbly script. There are hearts floating around the inside of the letter with simile faces and balloons. I laugh warmly, imagining Ethan sitting on his knees stooped over the kitchen table, tongue sticking out between his teeth as he focuses completely on his craftsmanship.

I fold the card back up quickly before any more thoughts can enter my mind. I tuck the card back into the package and grab the M&M tubes and magazines out before putting the package on the floor.

"What's going on, Snyder?" I groan, looking up to see Dr. Oliver hover over me. "Package from home?"

"Yeah. Now if you'll please get the examination over with, I'd like to read my magazines."

"I believe there is something you owe me?" He says, looking at me expectantly. I sigh and hand over a tube of M&Ms. He turns it over in his hand, inspecting it before opening the top and spilling a few chocolate circles into his hand. "Interesting." He examines the candies now, rolling them around in his palm.

"Are you going to molest them or eat them?" I laugh.

Dr. Oliver gasps jokingly, "When did you get such a dirty mouth?"

"Will you just put them in your mouth?"

Dr. Oliver raises his brow to me but says nothing. He throws back the candies into his mouth and chews slowly, many thoughts appearing on his face as he eats. "Interesting."

"So, do you like them or can I have them back?"

"They're different. Not as rich as German chocolate, but it's good. I like that candy coating, gives it a snap."

I roll my eyes and he tips the tube into his mouth. "Pig."

"Have any more?"

I laugh, "My father sent me two, but I thought the other one was mine. I can ask him to send more but it'll take a month."

"You better get to writing then."

"What about you? Does your family send you packages?"

Dr. Oliver makes a 'humph' sound. "No."

"Why not?"

"I don't have a family," he says uncomfortably.

"Why not?"

"Broken record much?" I say nothing, not allowing him to deflect attention away from my question. "I am, was, an orphan."

"You were?" I sit up in bed straighter, raking my eyes across Dr. Oliver's body, as if I'll see a sign of him being an orphan in his physical appearance.

"Yes. My mother and father gave me up when I was born because they didn't care. So I grew up in a boy's home."

"Is that why you're… you know… H-O-M-O…"

"No." He guffaws. "You think because I was around boys that's why it happened? Do you remember when I told you it isn't a defect? Snyder, there really may be something wrong with your brain."

"So you never knew your parents?"

"No."

"Doesn't that make you sad?"

"No." He says sternly, but I can see the falter in his eyes, he can't hide it from me even though they are piercing into me trying to scare me away from looking closer.

"Well I grew up on a farm with my mom and my dad and my grandmother. I also have three younger siblings, Faith, Natalie, and Ethan." Dr. Oliver blinks, unsure of how to respond to that. "As you know I had a dog named Oliver, and we raise chickens, and horses, and sheep, and we have a huge garden and apple orchard and berry fields."

"Anyone ever accuse you of over sharing?"

"I thought we were getting to know each other?"

"No, I came over here to get my payment." He holds up the empty M&M tube. "Not to get a life story."

"I thought we were becoming friends. We've shared a lot with each other already, more than I think you'd like to admit."

"We play cards, sometimes. You gave me candy as payment for saving your life. That's it."

"I also know you want to be a brain doctor, used to work in Vienna, your parents gave you up, you grew up in a boy's home, you like food, you are a sore loser, you like to play chess…"

"Alright, alright, but that was all coerced out of me by trickery. I didn't actually tell you that so you'd get to know me."

"Happened anyway." I grin. "There's one thing I don't know though."

"Good, I like being a man of mystery."

"What's your name?" I ask ignoring him.

"Dr. Oliver."

"I mean your first name."

He chews his lip for a bit before giving in, "Reid."

"I like that," I smile gently, looking at his face as if for the first time. Reid. He looks like a Reid.

"So glad you approve."

"My name's Luke."

"I didn't ask."

I smile and grab the M&Ms on my lap and hold them out to him, "You want these?"

He glares at me like it's a trick, "What do I have to tell you for them?"

"I wasn't really thinking about it as a bribe, but now that you say that…" He grabs the M&Ms out of my hand before I can finish. "Hey!"

"You talk too much." He slides the tube into his doctor's coat. "So anyway, back to the doctor stuff, how are you feeling?"

"I feel good, a bit sore still though."

"Well we'll have to get you up and walking around soon. How is the movement in your fingers?"

I flex the fingertips of my right hand that is held in a sling. "How's that?"

"Very impressive," he says sarcastically. He pulls back my blanket, pushing up my T-shirt to expose my belly, which has become sunken and flat from the lack of food for so long. I hiss as his fingertips touch my scar and he hesitates before laying his palms flat against my stomach, pressing in against my skin. I bite my bottom lip to hold back the moan that wants to escape. I lay my head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling as I feel his hands move lower down my belly, slightly beneath the waist of my sweat pants.

"Huggh!" I gasp as his fingers gently graze the top of my pubic hair.

"Hurt?" He looks up at me concerned.

"Wha… no."

He smirks, pulling his hands away from me and covering me back up. "I was checking from any distension, fluid, tenderness, not coping a cheap feel."

I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks and I turn my head wishing my body wouldn't betray me like that. "Sure… yeah… doctor…" I mumble.

"Deep breaths Private," he snickers. His voice shows how much he is enjoying my embarrassment as I refuse to turn my head back to look at him. "I'd check your pulse now but I think it would give me an inaccurate reading."

"Alright, thankyousomuch," I mumble.

"Get some rest." He taps my knee and I can hear the swish of his jacket as he turns to leave.

"Dr. Oliver, wait. Can you hand me my other package, please? I know how you don't want me ruining your handy work."

"Oh course." He goes to the foot of my bed where Katie left the Red Cross package and hands it to me. "There's some good food in there," He says awkwardly, tapping the top of the box.

"You think this is good?"

"Better than we get." He shrugs.

"Well maybe I'll share."

"I'll come check on you later, Private Snyder," he winks.

"See ya then, Reid."

With a roll of his eyes he turns away. I rip open the package and find it full of packets and cans of food. Cheese, chocolate, powdered milk, meat, biscuits and more. My mouth waters at the sight of all the food, my stomach wanting me to rip into each container and stuff it in my mouth. My head knows better though, I've been here a month and this is the first package I've gotten, it will be at least another month before I get another one, and there is not nearly enough food to last a month.

I put the package on my bed beside me and grab my army issue paper and a pen from the side table. I prop the paper on top of the box to write.

i

_Dear Family,_

_My doctor, Dr. Oliver, really loves the M&Ms. Send as many as you can find. I want to be his #1 patient. I know you're all worried about me and want me to come home but I'm not sure when I'll be home. I know that once I heal they aren't going to ship me home. I have to stay here until the war is over. Don't worry though please, I'm safe_./i

I pause the letter, looking up towards the door where the gruff SS guard in his black suit interrupted only by a band of red on his arm, stands stoic and strong, gun at his shoulder. Yeah, real safe.

I toss the letter to my parents aside and pull out a new piece of paper. I try to think of whom I can write to about my feelings, about Dr. Oliver. Faith is too young for what I want to say, Casey is dead, and I have no friends at home. I sigh and begin writing,

i _Dear Diary, I know that's lame but whatever. Today was the first time a boy… a man has touched me. He touched me below the waistband of my sweats. I know he's a doctor and yeah I've had doctors touch me before but this is different. Reid, his name is Reid. He has curly auburn hair and these piercing tough blue eyes but behind them there is something vulnerable and soft. I was so embarrassed though, I mean he felt… well you know what he felt because you're me so then you know but it was embarrassing. I don't understand why I was so embarrassed; I mean I've been naked around guys before, especially in the army, but this was so different. His hands were so soft though, and that skin doesn't get touched much by hands so it was extra sensitive, I felt like I could feel every millimeter of his skin pressed against me, each movement was exaggerated. Even now I can feel the flush over my body as I remember the way his fingers swept past my hair. He seemed so unaffected. I know, he's a doctor and he's touched many men. Heck, he's like me and I'm sure he's done more than just touched. Oh jeez, I bet he's even gone all the way. I must look like a dumb kid to him. What an idiot. Why am I obsessing over this? Because he happens to be like me too, the first guy I've ever known like me? Thinking about him looking at me and touching me, simply being near me raises my heart rate. Oh goodness, I like him don't, I? Like I like-like him. I have a crush. On a doctor, on a German!_ /i

I lay back on my bed and close my eyes, my body is burning up and my heart thuds against my chest. I can't keep the sensation of his fingers on my skin out of my mind. It encompasses all of me. Soon his hands touch me everywhere, sliding up and down my body, and then his lips follow wet and soft down my neck. I've never kissed anyone before, I can only imagine what it feels like, but I'm sure it feels amazing. I bet he's really good at it.

I take a sharp breath in and shake the feelings from my head. I grab the piece of paper I wrote my confession on and rip it into tiny pieces, and for extra precaution I begin to eat them.


	8. Chapter 8

I feel wetness on my forehead and open my eyes. Reid pulls back smiling at me, his eyes twinkling in the early sun that slips through the cracks of the hospital shelter.

"Hey," I smile drowsily.

"Checking your temperature," he reasons.

"It's nice." I feel like I'm floating on a cloud. The pillow under my head feels extra soft. "Maybe you should try that again, but a little lower," I smile.

He nods and slowly brings his face down to mine. I feel his nose brush against mine as he tilts his head so our lips fit perfectly together. He presses his lips gently to mine; they are soft like the pillow beneath me. I feel the heaviness of his breath against my lips as he opens his mouth. I moan gently, electricity flowing from my lips exciting the rest of my body. He whispers my name, Luke, against my lips. I can feel each letter as hot breath whispering down my throat. His hand comes up against my face, caressing my cheek as he nudges my mouth open. Suddenly everything is very wet and I gasp against his lips as I realize his tongue has come out to greet mine.

"Hey Snyder!"

My eyes rocket open as my body jerks up out of bed. I see a man standing over me, a smug look on his face. I look at my surroundings, confused as to where I am. Beds line each wall, men in white coats and woman in white dresses dance around the room with vials and pills. Hospital, I think to myself. Germans, oh and… I look up to the man standing over me, Reid. We were kissing, weren't we? Oh my God, I groan and fall back against the pillows, wiping my hand over my face, I was dreaming about making out with Dr. Oliver.

"I thought you were dead."

"What?"

"I was poking you and yelling your name. I thought you'd never wake up."

"Sorry, I was in the middle of…" I look up at him and blush, "A very vivid dream."

"Worth never waking up from?"

"Yes." I smile to myself.

"It might be the pain medication you're on giving you strange dreams."

"I don't mind," I grin to myself. I don't mind if your lips are all over me, doctor.

"OK then, Luke." He says, over enunciating the K with a click of his tongue, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. "How about we get you up and walking?"

"Sounds good, I'm sick of this hospital bed."

"Alright. Go slowly OK, your legs haven't been used in a month."

I nod, sitting up and turning myself slowly so that my legs dangle over the edge of my bed. Reid squats down beside me so he is at my level. His hand slinks around my back, three of his fingers stop to rest on the curve of my hip, his thumb pressing into my back, and his pinky dangling in the space between my T-shirt and sweat pants where it casually rests against my skin. I hiss at the contact as his pinky tickles the tender exposed flesh.

Reid pulls his hand back quickly. "My fingers cold?"

"Wha, oh, no, no they feel nice, I mean, fine." I mentally smack myself in the head for that bit of coherency.

Reid smirks, completely amused by my fluster and positions his hand back on my waist, a bit higher than before so all his fingers are touching me through the thin T-shirt.

"Grab on to me if you need to," he says, and keeps his voice completely professional and serious even as my heart begins to race at the thought of touching him. How can he be so calm when we're so close?

"Ready? On three… one, two, three." I feel his arm tighten around me, and I lift slowly to my shaking legs. Before I am completely up on my pins I can feel my knees start to give out and I reach forward to catch myself as I fall into Reid. My hands grab on to his chest as my body crashes against his, my head falling against his shoulder. His arms wrap around me with a "Whoa, easy there," but my body can only completely register the slight stubble of his chin that scrapes against my cheek, the broadness of his chest that expands between my hands, the ridge of his nipples I can feel through his shirt against my palms, the smell of his skin, not perfumed, but heavy with musk and man.

The only man I've been this close to is my father. The last time he held me was outside the train station before basic training. His arms came around me protective and worried, as if he could create a force field around me if he held on tight enough. Reid's arms aren't as physically strong as my father's, he's a doctor, he doesn't need muscle he needs precision. His arms still feel protective and safe, but there is trepidation, un-sureness in his hold.

I lift my eyes upwards, his face at this angle looks elongated, his eyelashes like rays of dark sunlight cast from his beautiful rich blue eyes. I'd never seen his eyes this closely, they are hypnotizing, intoxicating, drowning in their depths. I can feel that I have over stayed my welcome at this proximity as his arms flex and push me to stand upright, but I keep my weight tilted against him, my pores drinking in the breath that huffs through his lips as he groans to get me standing again.

"Sor-sorry." I mutter, balancing once again on my own two feet. His hands are holding my waist securely, but at arms length.

"Go slowly, one foot in front of the other." Reid keeps his arms a few inches from my body, waiting for me to fall, like a parent does when their toddler learns to walk.

I shuffle one foot in front of me and then slide the other beside it. My muscles are sore and tense from being cooped up in my hospital bed for a month. Reid stays beside me as I slowly make my way down the aisle, able now to get a closer look at my bedmates. All the boys look like a version of me, young, innocent, hurt, trapped, scared, lonely. Some don't have legs and some don't have arms and a few don't have faces anymore as burns and scars have taken over. I realize now that my bed is a safe haven from the sights that Reid sees everyday.

I turn slowly, keeping my eyes on the ground, no longer wanting to see bloody bandages or gruesome faces. I feel Reid's fingertips at my elbow as he leads me back to my bed and helps me sit down.

"I think in another week as long as you keep getting up and walking around I'll let you out of here."

"Where will I go?"

"To a barrack, which is basically another building that looks like this only without the medical supplies and wounded."

"And then that's it? You're done with me?"

"You're all healed. The amazing Dr. Oliver has cured you!" He laughs.

"Wait, so, that's it? You're done?" I can't keep the frown off my face. I hadn't even thought about what would happen when I got better, I seemed to believe I'd always be in the hospital, Reid had kept me here much longer than necessary, I know that, he could have discharged me after two weeks. Now I'll be leaving, going out into the real prison. What if I don't know what to do? What will the SS guards do now that there aren't doctors and nurses protecting me? What about Reid?

"Will I see you again?" I ask, my voice sounds young.

"It's a big camp," he shrugs. "You might."

I don't know why tears spring up and burn at the sides of my eyes. I look away, fiddling with my blanket to keep him from noticing.

"Have something to eat from that package of yours and then get some rest, your body needs it. I'll have Katie come back later and take you around the floor again, OK?"

I nod, not trusting the strength of my voice and lean over the side of my bed to grab my Red Cross package. Reid seems to get the picture that I'm done with him and walks off.

I drop the Red Cross package to the floor and cover my face with my hands as I feel the tears burn their way down my cheeks. What the hell Luke? I scold myself. Why are you crying?

My chin starts to shake and I heave in deep breaths. It feels like a dam has broken, my will power shot. Fear rises in prickles at the back of my neck. Fear of the patients that I now know lay beside me. Fear of the real camp that surrounds me. Fear of the SS and their pristine uniforms and guns. Fear that I'll never see Reid Oliver again. Fear that I'll never gaze into his drowning blue eyes, that I'll never feel his fingers brush against the exposed skin of my waist. Fear that I'll never again feel his breath against my skin or the course bristles of his 5'oclock shadow. Fear that I'll never know what it feels like to really lay against his chest and feel his protective arms around me.

I wipe my eyes on the back of my sleeve and reach down again for pen and paper. I prop the paper against my knee and use it as a hard surface to write against.

i Dear Faith,

Don't show this letter to mom and dad, but I met someone, here in Germany. There aren't many people I can talk to about my feelings, but I know that you don't judge me for having them, so I wanted to share this with you. I met a man, a wonderful man with the richest deepest blue eyes you've ever seen. He's a doctor at the hospital I was sent to. He's extremely smart and really funny. Today he helped me walk for the first time since I got shot and my legs were shaky so I fell but he caught me. Well I guess I caught myself on him. My hands were pressed against his chest, his hard broad chest. I was so close I could smell him, musky and male. And his fingers danced against the exposed skin of my waist as he helped me walk. Faith, he is so amazing, he's so beautiful, but they are going to release me from the hospital soon, and I might never see him again. I'm sure by the time this letter reaches you that will be the case. I don't know what to do. I feel like getting hurt again so I can stay with him.

I'm such a stupid boy, I have this major crush on an older man and he probably thinks I'm a stupid kid. He humors me and hangs out with me but that doesn't mean he cares about me any more than my medical wellbeing. I'm such a child, really I am, but I've never felt this way about anyone before. Something sharp twists and knifes in my gut when I think about leaving him, and the pain is more real than when the motor exploded and shrapnel ripped open my stomach. I never thought that he'd be gone, that we'd have to leave each other. I thought the war would end with me in the hospital and then things would go back to normal, and I could stay with him, or he could stay with me. /i

I pause and read over the paragraphs disguised as a letter to my sister.

"No, no I can't send this." I mumble to myself and begin to rip the letter into tiny pieces. I've become accustomed to this now, every day I write a letter or a diary entry and then dispose of it, having exposed too much of my feelings, weary of it falling into the wrong hands. I tear up the paper and begin putting the pieces in my mouth. They taste like what paste smells like and I scrunch my nose as I force my dry mouth to swallow them and then add more.

"When I said have something to eat in your package I didn't mean that. I know the food around here isn't the best but I don't think army issued paper has any nutritional value."

I choke on the ball of paper in my mouth and push it down with a forceful swallow. I look up to see Reid tower over me. I feel so small trapped in my hospital bed beneath his piercing gaze.

"Oh right, yeah," I mumble, collecting the rest of the bits of paper up in my hands.

"So what's all this about?" Reid gestures towards my hands that frantically collect the papers.

My eyes shoot up to him, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Um, well, I." I can feel my face start to burn; I never was good at lying. "I wrote something and then realized I didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands so now I'm disposing of the evidence." I say truthfully.

Reid's eyes seem to ponder my admission. "What'd you write?"

"It's private."

"You shouldn't keep secrets from your doctor."

"It's not medical." Or maybe it is, lovesickness.

"So what was it?"

I didn't want to lie to him; my father always told me that you can't build a healthy relationship if its foundation is a lie. Not that Reid and I were in a relationship, no, of course not, but if we were, well at least friends, I should be honest. You can't get in trouble for being honest, right?

"Earth to Luke."

"Oh, right, sorry. Um, you."

"You?"

"What I was writing about, you."

"Nothing bad was it? You weren't writing a letter to the Commandant about how I nearly let you wipe out this morning on our walk?"

"No, nothing like that. I was writing about you, about your arms, and your smell, and your chest, and your eyes…" I feel my blush grow as my mouth takes over and blurts out my thoughts.

He looks at me shocked, as if he's never heard someone be so honest before. "I'm not sure what to say."

"Don't worry, you didn't do anything. I have a stupid crush, I'm sure by wars end it'll be over."

"You're probably feeling misdirected feelings. I'm taking care of you like I'm sure your mommy does when you're sick. You miss your mommy, so you put those feelings on me."

"This has nothing to do with my mother," I groan.

"Florence Nightingale syndrome, Luke, you'll get over it."

"I already said I'd get over it," I snap.

"Right, well I need you to do me a favor and ask that you not write anymore about me. I know you are disposing your thoughts in a rather interesting way, but if anyone catches what you wrote you and I will be in for a world of hurt, do you understand me?"

"Yes, I'm sorry Reid, I've been really careful though," I say feeling like a child being scolded by their teacher.

"Careful doesn't cut it around here," he mumbles, turning and walking off.


	9. Chapter 9

I squint my eyes to the late October sun hanging high in the cloudless sky. I haven't been outside in almost two months. The air feels light and cool in my lungs, a sharp contrast to the thick medicine air trapped inside the hospital shelter. I take in the view around me, my first time seeing the camp I have been trapped in all this time.

The camp looks like a dilapidated town of the old west. Shabby looking buildings line the streets. I can image tumbleweed rolling down the cold dirt roads. There are no trees, the only foliage a few browning blades of grass fighting to grow in the empty fields; tiny pathetic looking shrubs dried from autumn, struggle for existence in the barren landscape. Watchtowers rise in the empty sky like castle turrets. I can make out shadowy figures pacing back and forth, like vultures hovering in the sky waiting for prey. It doesn't take me long to notice the barbed wire trapping me on all sides. Breath tightens in my chest, even with the empty streets, bare ground and open sky I feel the claustrophobia of incarceration.

Late autumn wind billows through the empty streets, swirling around my body. I pull my jacket around me tighter with my free hand; my duffle bag is slung over my good shoulder. I press my chin to my chest, using my head to break against the wind as I hurry across the compound to barrack 9.

I step up into barrack 9, a long skinny building made of scrap wood. The floor is earth packed. Each side of the structure, like the hospital, is lined with beds. I use the term beds lightly. They look more like shelves, three beds high filled with hay and a few wool blankets from the Red Cross.

A few of the men look up at my entrance, but look back down at their card games or letters uninterested in my appearance. I look around the room and catch sight of something that feels familiar. One of the prisoner's heads has curly black hair. I can only see him from the back, but the curls remind me of someone I can't quite remember. It isn't until he turns his face towards me that a smile breaks out on my face in recognition. I let my duffle bag drop to the ground with a thud and run towards him.

"Noah! You're alive!" Noah squints at me for a few seconds before recognition also crosses his face. "I thought you were dead!" I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Noah shirks away from me, "Yeah I'm alive, I'm not going to let the nasty Krauts get me."

"Well they did get you, being a prisoner and all."

"We'll see."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't plan on staying."

"You don't mean to say that you're thinking about escaping do you? Noah that's crazy!"

"What's crazy is being alive and not fighting!"

"You're safe here Noah!"

"I don't care about being safe, I want the glory."

"The glory of getting a bullet in your head?"

"Whatever it takes."

"You don't mean that." Noah's fists are clenched at his sides and I can tell his lungs are stiff in his chest with fury. "It's not bad here, besides the food. I hear they perform plays, concerts, and have sporting events. Maybe my brother is right, it sort of is like camp?"

"I'm not here for a craft table, Luke. I'm here to kill the Germans. If I ever get my hands on a weapon…"

"Will you keep your mouth shut? They'll lock you up or worse if they hear you."

"You know I miss the good old days when being a prisoner meant actually being a prisoner instead of sitting around on your ass waiting for the war to end."

"What's wrong with you? Do you know how lucky you are? We both could have ended up like Kevin and Casey."

"At least their parents got purple hearts sent back."

"You think their parents give a damn about a purple heart when their child was killed?"

"My dad would."

I shook my head, deciding to steer away from this ridiculously disturbing conversation, "So, where do I sleep?"

"Wherever there's room. You can put your bag under the bunks."

I nod and search under the shelves of beds for an empty spot. I choose a place near the door so I have a landmark to remember and not lose my stuff.

"So, where were you?" Noah asks.

"In the hospital. I had my guts blown out and my shoulder shot up."

"Lucky you, you'll get a purple heart."

"You can have it, I really don't care."

"Why are you even a soldier then?"

"Because I was drafted."

"That's the problem with the draft, they end up having a unit of ambivalent fighters."

"I thought it was the fact that thousands of innocent young men died?"

Noah shakes his head and sits down on the bottom bunk, "The army is going to waste."

I roll my eyes and squat down beside my bag, opening it up and searching around it for nothing particular other than something to distract me from having to listen to Noah's comments.

"I'm pissed, Luke. I hate being stuck in here."

"I know you do," I rest my hand on his shoulder understandingly, poor Noah, trapped in a relatively safe environment away from the guns and bloodshed. "Don't worry though, I'm sure there'll be another war for you," I say sarcastically, he doesn't seem to notice my tone.

"I hope so," he mutters utterly devastated. And they call me a drama queen.

I sigh and sit beside Noah on the bed, both of us staring down at our nails concentrating on inner thoughts, mine go obviously to Reid. I feel bad about that, I should be missing my family and America, but whenever I have free time, which is most all the time, my thoughts drift to Reid. I didn't see him all day today. Katie came by and unhooked me from the medicine and then told me where I'd be staying. Reid didn't even come over to say goodbye.

I bit my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. What the hell, Luke? Your buddies were killed, your family is millions of miles away and you might not see them for years, you're stuck in a prison with Nazis and guns all around you and the thing you get sad about is not seeing a doctor ever again? He's hot, yes, but that's all. Why are you making such a big deal about this? He is like you, yes, but clearly he didn't want to help. Or couldn't. Wait, did he not want to or could he not? The distinction makes a difference. He never actually said he didn't want to, that he wasn't attracted to me; all he ever said was that we couldn't. Which means he wanted to, right?

"Earth to Luke." I look up to see Noah standing in front of me. "Parade time."

"Parade?" Was this a prison or a sleep over camp?

"Well they call it parade, must be a German thing, it's really role call. We all stand around outside and they count us to make sure no one escaped. Then after we have lunch and then tonight there's going to be a play put on by some of the prisoners."

"Sounds kind of fun." I shrug. "Wait, the prisoners put on the play? Do the Germans come to watch?"

"Yeah, the ones who are off duty come. They sit on one side of the stage and we sit on the other. They don't talk to us or anything."

A smile lit up my face. I jump off the bed, banging the back of my head into the bunk above me. "Ouch."

Noah winces at the loud bang. "You OK?"

"Uh, yeah." I laugh, rubbing the back of my head. "We should go." I say noticing that we are the last two people in the barrack.

"Yeah." I follow Noah outside, the afternoon sun beginning to set to the West. Reid, Reid would be there tonight, he had to be. He knows I'll go, and if he wants to see me he'll be there. If I see him from across the aisle, then I'll know it's can't and not won't.


	10. Chapter 10

I step into the crowded building they call the auditorium. It's a long building much like the barrack's only at the front there is a small raised platform that is now partitioned off with a bed sheet. There are a few rows of hastily made wooden benches near the stage; the rest of the room is open, where hundreds of prisoners smash together.

To the left of the stage the Germans sit, about 30 of them in all, talking happily, casually with one another, not paying attention to the prisoners. I push my way through the crowds to get a better spot near the front. It feels as if every single prisoner is crushed into the auditorium tonight.

I squeeze myself with a kind smile onto the end of one of the benches to the back of the rows. My eyes roam the German bodies, searching heads for the unmistakable head of curly auburn hair. I didn't see him, but no worry, lots of people continued to pile into the auditorium. Even with all the bodies smashed together, there was still an open perimeter around the German benches, as if they had set up an invisible electric fence that everyone knew not to cross.

With nothing else to do with myself, I fold my hands neatly in my lap and look down at them. Noah, the only one I know in the camp since I've only been here for a few hours and most of those were stuck standing in a line being counted, refused to come to the play. He said it was a disgrace for prisoners to put on plays for their captors, that there should be no laughter or enjoyment when being held prisoner. He said he longed for the old days when you were chained up and beaten. I kept my mouth closed, shook my head at his stupidity, and left him in the barrack by himself.

From what I could see the other Americans were chatty and friendly, goofing off with each other and laughing as we waited for the play to start.

The doors finally close, inside the auditorium it gets relatively dark besides the few glowing cracks in the wood panels where the moonlight shines through. A hush falls over the crowd and men begin to rearrange themselves for a better view of the stage.

The curtain is pulls back revealing three men dressed in pajamas. It's hard to hear what they are saying since the acoustics in the room are next to nothing and hundreds of men rustling and breathing distort the air. Apparently I am the only one having hearing problems as the crowd erupts in laughter and another prisoner dressed in a tutu and an elephant head appears on stage. My mouth falls agape and I can feel saliva starting to creep out as I stare at his hairy legs peeking out from under the skirt. I look over to see the Germans laughing their heads off, falling over each other, slapping each other on the back, clearly enjoying themselves. There are hoots and hollers from the crowd that nearly disturbs the flow of the play, but after a few beats the crowd settles down and the play continues as intended.

A strip of light breaks through the otherwise dark room as the back door opens. I look behind me to be caught by the unmistakable form of Reid. Even out of his doctor clothes I knew by the mess of curly hair, slim body and long gentile fingers that the figure is Reid. Instead of blue scrubs and a white doctors coat he wore skin tight black jeans, a maroon button down, and a beaten up brown bomber jacket. Holy hell, I groan inside my head and shift in my seat, my pants becoming uncomfortable. I watch Reid take a seat at the back of the German section. I suddenly wish I had binoculars to get a better look at his ass and crotch in those jeans.

An eruption of laughter makes me jump in my seat, sucking in a sharp breath and finally blinking my eyes. He's here. I smile to myself, the grin growing wider and pulling at my cheeks. He's here; he came. His eyes are focused to the front, his legs slightly parted, feet flat on the floor, hands folded in his lap. He keeps his eyes straight ahead, not looking around searching for me. There are cat-calls around me, the play goes on, but all that fades into the background, Reid and I end up being the only two people in the room. It feels as though there is a big empty expanse between us. I want to close the distance, stand up and sit beside him. I know I can't, so I settle for watching his face. Watch his mouth twitch as he fights against laughter for the play. I watch his hands rub against his thigh or twitch beside him as if searching for a scalpel, not feeling secure without the instrument in his hand. I watch his eyelashes, I can see them from across the room they are so long and dark, or I'm remembering what they look like from our close encounters in the hospital, either way I watch them flutter over his eyes as he blinks, his eyes emotionless as he stares straight ahead. There is tension in his neck and shoulders, as if restraining his self from turning around. From searching for me, I grin like an idiot again with the thought. Yes, of course Luke, he's hopelessly in love with you and decided to come to watch this play hoping you'd be in the room so maybe he might be able to breathe in some of your exhale. I roll my eyes at myself and turn back towards the stage, but I can't keep my eyes from flicking back to Reid every so often. Thankfully the play is a comedy and not a tragedy or else the wide burning smile on my face would look oddly out of place.

When the play ends, and then applause died down, people standing to leave, I look back behind me and find Reid gone.

One leg stretches out behind me as I bend over my other knee, resting my hands down on the cold dirt. My ligaments and muscles stretch and burn as I bounce against the ball of my feet. I look beside me to see Noah in a similar lunge.

It's a day after the play and the Germans have decided to declare that since this is forecasted to be the last good day of the year that they will hold a mock-Olympics. Every prisoner must sign up for one of the activities. Sadly for me, basketball was not on the docket so Noah and I decided to sign up for the mile run. At least I knew how to put one foot in front of the other, and during basic training I had a pretty good mile time.

The Germans have marked off a course for us and set up a ribbon at the end for us to break through. Other prisoners and off duty Germans line the make shift track betting on which runner will win.

I shift my body to stand and reach my arms up over my head, stretching my shoulders, twisting my hips back and forth.

"I put 5 Reichsmark on the curly haired one," a German through a coin into the pile. Everyone was betting for Noah. In his shorts and tank top, every muscle in his body shows ripped and strong. Some of the other runners also had bids placed for them, but so far from what I hear no one has bet on me.

"Give me 10 on the skinny blonde kid." I look over to see Reid, squat down on the ground next to the man taking bets.

The other Germans start laughing at him, 'Don't be ridiculous Dr. Oliver, you are throwing your money away! I can't accept such a bet, you must be under the weather."

"I know what I'm doing, take my money." Reid says with a hard edge. He throws the coin back into the pile and stands up. Our eyes meet and I blush, tucking my chin down, feeling naked in his gaze standing in my shorts and tank top. Not that he hasn't actually seen me naked, and that thought only makes me blush more. He smiles at me and gives me a coy wink. His small wink goes right through me and turns my legs to jelly, which is really not what I need before I run a race.

"You ready?" Noah's hand slaps my back with a crack.

"Uh?" I break the gaze with Reid and look over to Noah.

"Try not to beat you too badly, Snyder."

"Alright, line up!" The German barks orders. Noah and I along with the few other runners line up with our toes at the line drawn in the dirt. The German raises a pistol in the air and I flinch at the bang. When I open my eyes the other runners are already ahead of me, and I hurry to get my feet moving, wanting to prove Reid right. I push myself to my limits, my thighs screaming at me before I reach half a mile, my lungs burning as I force air inside them. I can barely make out Noah's body bouncing ahead of me as he rounds the corner into the home stretch. I can feel my legs slowing, my body trying to give up but I push through it. I'm not going to win, that was obvious to everyone, but I can at least finish so Reid doesn't look like a complete idiot. I hear cheering and know that Noah has already broken through the finish line. I round the corner to see the Germans laughing and shoving each other in celebration. When I get to the finish I slow my pace, no one noticing my appearance. Even Noah is getting high-fives and praise from the Germans for his athleticism. Everyone, German and American alike are grouped together, grabbing at money and chiding the ones who lost. I double over resting my hands on my knees and suck in breaths, glad that no one is paying any attention to me.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and whip around to be met with piercing blue eyes. "Not dying on me are you?"

"Uh, wha?" I swallow my breath.

"I knew you weren't going to win, you didn't have to push yourself so hard."

"Oh right, ya know. Wait, why bet on me and lose your money if you knew I wasn't going to win?"

Reid shrugs without an answer. "You look good in your outfit." My jaw drops, my brain short-circuiting, and I know I must look like an idiot gaping at him. "I need to go. Meet me by the latrines later after night roll call," he whispers the instructions calmly and then walks away. I watch his ass wiggle in his skintight black jeans that I didn't get to appreciate from this vantage last night.

"I won." Noah crashes into my jokingly, a genuine smile on his face.

"Huh? Yeah, congratulations." I pick my jaw up from the ground and try to get my face back to normal.

"Let's go back to the barrack and celebrate, I have some food stored in my bag for just such an occasion." Noah wraps his arm around my shoulders and walks me towards the barrack.

I think if it weren't for Noah pressing me ahead and guiding me that I wouldn't be able to find my way back to the barrack. All my mind could repeat in my head was latrines, tonight, Reid. Why did Reid want to meet me at the latrines of all places? I mean really? They reek, and there are flies all over, so not romantic. Romantic? I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Luke. Besides, there is nothing romantic about a POW camp. Well, maybe one thing, I grin. Noah bumps against me, laughing as we make our way to our barrack. Tonight, I smile, tonight.


	11. Chapter 11

The late fall air is warm as the day had been. I stand in front of the entrance to the latrine, foul odors tickling my nose. I keep close to the wall, hiding in a shadow from the moon's light. Meet by the latrines after roll call was a bit of an ambiguous time frame and I'm starting to wonder if I came too early or too late. Every whistle of the wind or rustle of dead brush makes me jump. I'm not sure what would happen if a Nazi finds me out after roll call. They can't kill a guy for needing to use the bathroom, right? I mean what will they do, imprison me? I'm already a prisoner. Starve me? I already don't get much to eat.

"Consuming anymore diary entries?"

I look up startled and see Reid standing in front of me. Lost in my own worries I didn't hear him approach.

"What? Diary entries? No."

"Well then I guess you're losing your daily fiber intake." Reid snickers and leans one hand against the wall of the latrine. He leans forward towards me and his gesture reminds me of the boys in high school who cornered their girlfriends at their lockers with just such a move. His eyes rake over me and I shiver despite the warmth of the air.

"Why did you make us meet here with the flies and the smells?"

"Everyone needs to use the facilities, right? Seems the most natural place for us to be."

"So what did you want to see me for?"

"A doctor needs to check up on his patient."

I roll my eyes, "Why are we really here?"

Reid picks his nail against a piece of fraying wood. "Wanted to see you," he mumbles, looking down at his shoe.

"Wanted to see me, well you've seen me." I push off the wall of the latrine tired of his games. He either wants me, or he doesn't care about me, and I'm tired of grabbing at all the little crumbs he throws my way.

"Wait." Reid's hand wraps around my wrist and my body instantly stills. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out, and he drops my hand.

"What, Reid?" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "You want to see me, well you can see me around the compound, at the plays and concerts. Why risk our safety by meeting? There's a reason, say it or I'm gone."

"I wanted to see you, alone." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his left hand twitching against his thigh. "I like you, Luke. You're funny, attractive, nice, you seem to get me and my… uniqueness. So I want to be around you."

"That's not enough. Admit that you have feelings for me, that go deeper than friendship." I cross my arms in front of me, daring him. Reid balks at me, but quickly shuts his mouth, turning serious and nods. "What was that? Didn't quite hear you."

"Yes."

"Yes what?" I grin. I feel like a child demanding answers, but I need to know for sure.

"Yes I have feelings for you that are more than friendship."

I smile victoriously. Reid looks in pain, as if the admission gutted him. "What's wrong?"

"I've never told anyone that before."

"Maybe you never felt it before so you couldn't say it." He nods, remaining silent. I can feel his vulnerability from the admission. "I have feelings for you too, you know," I say trying to level the playing field.

Reid laughs spontaneously, "I figured that out weeks ago when you got an erection from me touching you."

I blush deeply in the moonlight and step back into the shadow of the latrine to hide it. "So what do we do now?"

"Hell if I know," Reid groans, rubbing his hand over his face. "This is the worst place in the world to meet, I mean honestly we couldn't have picked a worse situation to develop feelings in."

"You mean because we're two men."

"Not only us being two men, there's the prisoner/captor, patient/doctor, American/German, aspects. On no level is this OK."

"What are you saying? We forget about our feelings?"

"I'm saying we need to be extremely careful. All the time, every second of the day and night we have to watch our backs. During the day we can't lead anyone to question if something is going on with us, we can't gaze into each other's eyes across the courtyard in case someone notices. When we meet up at night we have to keep our voices down, part if there is the slightest fear of someone coming. Do you understand what thin ice we're standing on?"

"No."

Reid laughs without emotion, "Of course you don't. You're young and naive and see the good in the world and in people. You haven't seen the things I've seen. What the Nazis do to people they are scared of, and Luke if they find out about us they'll be terrified."

"Why? We're not doing anything to them. I don't see why it matters. Why my mom cares, why my whole town turned their back on me when I told them about my feelings towards men. I don't understand why it matters. It doesn't scare me that my dad finds woman attractive, why do I scare him that I find men attractive?"

"I don't know, Luke. They want everyone to be the same, feel and act exactly like they do so that they don't have to think about why someone would want to be different."

"I don't want to be different."

"Why not, because it's easy to blend in? Easy is for idiots. I find that homosexuality is a sign of higher intelligence."

I laugh, "Of course you do, oh brilliant Dr. Oliver."

"You're pretty bright yourself, I mean at least we know you have good taste," he says gesturing over his body. I snort, which gains a wide grin from Reid.

"I think that we have painfully embarrassingly established that I find you attractive."

He smiles gently, his eyes softening into what I've decided is a loving gaze. He steps closer to me, reaching out his hand. My eyes flutter shut as I feel his soft fingertips brush against my cheek. He cradles my cheek into the palm of his hand. His fingers wrap around my neck and play with the long ends of my hair.

"Open your eyes." His breath is against my lips. Hesitantly I open my eyes and find myself nose to nose with Reid, his passionate blue eyes take up my entire view. They burn like flames I feel crackling inside my belly.

"Reid," my breath hitches, my body shivering with need. "You're touching me," I whisper, because I can't think of anything else to say. My eyes start to close again at the gentle petting his fingers are doing against the back of my neck. No one has ever touched me there, in the space between my skull and shoulders where my skin peeks out from my messy hair. I can barely suck in breaths; it feels like Reid is pressing in on me. He might be, I can't tell, my eyes are closed tight, the intensity of his eyes too much for my brain to take.

"Keep your eyes open, Luke," he clicks his tongue on the K again and my eyes open slowly.

"I… you… you're so close, I can't… breathe."

Reid's lips curl in a chuckle. "You should breathe, I'm pretty sure you want to be alive for this." He's leaning in, closer and closer, his breath hotter and hotter against my lips. I feel his nose brush against mine. His fingers dig in ever so slightly at the nape of my neck, holding me in place. My heart is beating rapidly as I suck in lung full after lung full of Reid's exhale. Oh shit, he's going to kiss me. My brain seems to buzz with adrenalin. The moment seems to be taking forever for his lips to cross the centimeters of space between our faces. I try to account for every smell, taste, feel, wanting to remember every detail of my first kiss.

Footsteps crunch on the path behind us. My eyes bolt open to see Reid pull away from me before our lips meet. He slaps my cheek as he quickly removes his hand, turns, and with a mumble of "tomorrow" walks away into the night.


	12. Chapter 12

It became routine, every night after roll call I'd sneak out to meet Reid by the latrines. We didn't stay long, only long enough for a few soft touches and lingering glances before we had to return to our respective places.

Daylight was getting shorter; wind came in frigid gusts across the barren landscape of the camp. I spent my days playing cards with the boys, writing letters to my family, thinking about the first Thanksgiving at Snyder farm that I'd miss, and daydreaming about Reid and how painfully close his lips had been to mine. I joined one of the play groups, thinking it would make for a good excuse for Reid to have his eyes fixed on me, but when we put the play on I did not see him in the audience.

Now I stand, dancing around in my spot by the latrine, my hands tucked under my armpits trying to keep warm as my breath curls in clouds out in front of me. The flies have all died and the stench from the latrine is frozen in place, so our meeting place has become tolerable.

"Hey you." I look up to see Reid walking towards me, hands stuffed into the pockets of his brown leather bomber jacket. "Let's go inside."

"Inside the toilet?" I look at him questioningly.

"We'll be out of the wind."

"We need to find a better place." I say as I step into the latrine, Reid following behind me. "This is seriously the grossest most unromantic thing ever."

"Where else do you suggest we meet that both of us could feasibly be at night after hours? You want me to sneak into your bunk? Not a great idea."

"I could give you some of my army clothes, you could pass as American."

"As hot as it would be to wear your clothing, I'm pretty sure your barrack officer knows who I am, since I did all their physicals."

"So now we get to hang out with the shit."

Reid laughs, his eyes lighting up. "Be glad you didn't get here in the summer, talk about a stench."

"OK, can we not? As amusing as this conversation is to you, it is completely ruining the mood."

"Alright Snyder," Reid chuckles, "what did you have in mind?"

Reid's question hangs in the silence between us. It's awkward but it's a nice awkward, it's the awkward that says we both want something but we're both too nervous to start it. It's the awkward faze between getting to know you and I know you so well.

"Well as fun as it is gazing into your eyes, it's not worth freezing my ass over or possibly being caught so if you're bored with this I think I'm going to go."

"No, Reid." I grab his hand and tug him closer to me, "Stay," I smile sheepishly. I pull him closer to me and his cold nose bumps against mine.

"That was a lie you know," he whispers. I can see his breath curl white against my lips. "I'd risk anything to gaze into your eyes."

A gasp catches in my throat. Reid's never said anything remotely romantic or intimate to me before.

"Me too. Your eyes are amazing. I can still see them at night when you're not around."

"If the rest of your body is as amazing as your eyes are, then I'm in for a treat." Reid says in a low, rough voice. I gulp audibly and lace my fingers between his. "You know," he adds casually, "Once the war ends."

I look at him wide-eyed. "Re-Reid," I stutter when I finally find my voice. I play the shaking off as if from the cold and not his words, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Go for it."

"Have, have um, you, ever er…"

"Spit it out, Snyder." He laughs, but his eyes go soft.

"Have you ever had sex, you know, with another man?"

"What other kind of sex is there?" He winks. "Yes, I have."

"How does that feel?" My voice comes out much more schoolboy during a lesson than I intended.

"If it felt bad I wouldn't keep doing it."

"You've done it more than once?"

"I've done it a lot of times with lots of different people."

"Weren't you scared?"

"I was, when I was your age."

"I'd be terrified, I think." I laugh nervously realizing that I inadvertently outed my virginity, not like he couldn't guess.

"You probably would. We'll need to get you a training penis."

"What?" My face bursts red with his use of the word. The word feels so intimate being whispered between us.

"A small and manageable one for your first time."

"Um you're not… wait… what?" I gulp.

"Don't worry, you'll be safe from them here. Water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink."

"Huh?"

"You're surrounded by men but as long as the Nazis are looking out you'll never be able to experience one."

"Oh well that's good, not good, but you know, I'm not ready."

"I can tell, your shaking."

"That's from you, standing so close, breathing on my neck, talking about…"

"Penises?"

"Yeah." I swallow hard.

Reid chuckles, "It's fun making you squirm."

I move back from him suddenly, "You're just playing with me then?" My heart drops and I feel my eyes frown. Of course, why would this experienced, older German doctor want a skinny naive American kid? "This is a joke to you?"

"I don't play games, Luke. I'm not that guy. I happen to think you getting nervous and shaky around me is a turn on."

"I… I turn you on?" I ask unbelievingly.

He leans in and growls against my ear, "You don't know how much." I reach a hand out to the wall of the latrine to keep my legs from giving out. "I have to go." He brushes his lips lightly across my cheek as he pulls his face away from mine. "See you around." He winks one last time before turning and disappearing into the night.

"Oh shit." I gasp, my body crumples down the wall of the latrine to rest against the frozen earth.


	13. Chapter 13

The next night Reid doesn't come to meet me at the latrine, nor the night after that, or the night after that.

It's been five days since I last saw Reid. A measly five days and yet my heart aches for him. I worry that they caught him, I worry that he can't get away, that they stepped up security; they are on to us. I worry that he realized it really isn't worth risking his life to gaze into my eyes.

I stand by the latrine in the increasingly cold November nights waiting in vain for him. I keep telling myself every night not to bother, but my heart refuses to let me lose hope. Tonight may be the night he comes back here for me, and I need to be here for him when he does.

I hear footsteps approaching, crunching on the stony path. I turn my head expecting to see Reid, but it's not Reid. The figure is shorter, skinnier, defiantly not Reid's silhouette. I turn to make it look as if I am exiting the latrine and make hasty steps back towards my barrack. The figure behind me begins to quicken its pace.

"Luke!" I stop, startled from hearing my own name. The voice defiantly does not belong to Reid, but it is not unfamiliar.

The figure moves under the lamplight and I recognize Katie bundled up in a fur and wool coat. "Katie what are you doing here?" I whisper loud enough to make the gap between us.

"Reid sent me. Well actually he sent me a couple of days ago but I couldn't get away. The Nazi's took him out of the camp hospital. There is a German soldier who got hurt very badly and is in a hospital near by. They brought Reid in to treat him. He told me to go to the latrine at night and I'd find you. I'm not sure if I want to know why he knows your bowl movements so well, but then he is a doctor…"

"We meet here, Katie. Every night."

"Oh! Oh!" A light goes off in her head as her eyes fill with so much understanding. "So that's why he's always sneaking off on break."

"So he's gone?" I feel my heart pinch a little. "Permanently?"

"No, he'll be back. He doesn't know when though so he told me to tell you not to come for a few weeks. He said he'd some how send word to you when he gets back. I'm going to assume now that it has something to do with using me."

"Thanks for coming, Katie. I was so worried something bad had happened to Reid."

"He's safe, Luke, don't worry." Katie gives me a warm smile. "I need to get back, they don't know I'm gone. I'm sure I'll see you later to tell you Reid's back."

"Thanks," she nods a reply and turns to walk back to the hospital. I blow out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the latrine wall. Reid's safe, he's just gone out on business, like dad does when he goes to Kentucky for the horses. I laugh at myself, I'm the little woman who stays at home and keeps the hearth burning until her husband comes home.

"I missed you," are the first words out of my mouth to him after three long weeks. "Did you miss me?" I ask hopefully.

"I was busy," he says gruffly. "Although, I may have been reminded of you every time I peed," he shrugs, the corners of his mouth itching to lift.

"Reid!" I giggle lightly, slapping his shoulder playfully. "That's disgusting."

"On the contrary, bathrooms now mean a great deal to me."

"You're impossible," I groan, but my cheeks are burning in a wonderful heat from the smile he put on my face. It's been so long since I burned this good. It's scary realizing how empty I feel without Reid around, how boring life is without him to look forward to. "How did it go, the patient?"

"Touch and go for awhile there. I did some pretty miraculous things I must say, I better get a write up in a medical journal for it."

"So he lived?"

"Of course. Although I'm not sure how much living he's actually going to be doing. The extent of damage to his brain is severe."

"Oh." I frown.

"Not even the great Dr. Oliver can conjure brain tissue out of thin air."

"But you tried," I smile, "I know you did."

"Possibly," he smiles. He reaches for my hand, lacing our gloved fingers together and pulls me closer.

"It's Thanksgiving tomorrow, did you know that?" I ask casually, kicking my foot into the dirt.

"Yeah, I heard people planning for it. It's that crazy American holiday where you eat a lot of food and are thankful for what, not getting diarrhea after?"

"Reid! It's about people coming together and sharing and spending time together."

"Well I'll be at the hospital."

"You're not coming to the feast? Well, not that it'll be much of a feast but I heard the Red Cross is brining in food for us, maybe even real turkey!"

"I went to the thing last year, and the year before that. You know this war has been going on for quite some time even though you just got in. I don't see what the big deal about it is."

"We could spend it together," I mumble, frowning down at my shoe.

"No we can't."

"We could at least be in the same room together."

"What's the point to that, Luke? I won't be able to touch you, I won't be able to talk to you, I won't be able to look at you."

"You'll be able to feel me, feel my presence."

"That's bullshit, Luke."

"Don't you feel different when I'm around?" I lift my eyes to his so he can't lie to me. I see his eyes falter as his mouth opens and closes. Whatever he was about to say is erased by my eyes. "Yeah, thought so." I say smugly.

"I'm still working, so I won't be there."

"You work too much, don't you ever have fun?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Oh yeah? Like when?"

"Like in my bed, alone."

"R-ree-id." My body shivers as electricity runs up my spine, tingling in liquid heat.

"I thought about you more than just in the latrine. I dreamed about your pouty swollen lips."

"Reid please," my body shivers, begging for him, my hips tilting up towards his.

"Your fingers, long and soft, your finger tips brushing against my skin."

My breaths come out in jagged puffs into the air. "What are you doing?" I groan, feeling myself grow hard in my jeans.

"Getting you off without touching you."

"Please." I gasp, never needing someone so much in my life, my body buzzing and singing and aching for him, even for just a few words.

"Do you want that Luke?" He clucks his tongue pronouncing the K. "My lips on yours, my hands on your skin, under your shirt, rolling over your nipples, my lips moving down your jaw, sucking on your neck, lapping at the sensitive spot at the groove of your collar bone."

I whimper, reaching my free hand down to rub the front of my jeans. Reid grabs my hand back away. "I said no touching."

"You're serious?" I groan incredulous.

"Close your eyes. My hands slide down your lean torso, my tongue dips into your navel, tasting you as my hands move down to your strong thighs, brushing my finger tips up and down the inside of your needy skin."

"Guhn." There are no words left as I feel myself leaking inside my jeans.

"My mouth moves lower, my tongue running down the crease of your thighs, breathing in your musk. Slowly I lick over the head of your cock, bring you to my mouth, breathe hot and wet against it as it slides down my throat."

I can feel my legs shaking. Reid must anticipate it because his free hand wraps around my waist, holding me steady. "Please," I whimper.

"Think about it, Luke," his mouth is right there, husky and hot against my ear. "Think about your swollen throbbing cock sucked and licked down my throat. My finger nails raking along your chest, grabbing at your nipples and twisting as your fingers twist in my hair."

My body is shuddering now, my hips thrusting to meet his, but he keeps his distance, keeps his promise of making me come without touching.

"Come on Luke, come for me, let go, I want to see you," his breath tickles my neck, his voice low and commanding. I can feel a loud groan build in my stomach and lean in, biting down against his leather jacket to muffle it as I release, jerking and needy, into my jeans.

I collapse against Reid's chest, he holds me gently, laughing triumphantly. I'm too weak and dizzy to tell him how much I hate him right now. Wipe that smug look off of his face because I can feel his own erection against my thigh and I'll be damned if I'm going to reciprocate for him if I'm not allowed to touch.

"You alright?" Worry laces his question, as if he's considering that he went too far. It's not like this was my first orgasm, far from it. It wasn't my best either; I'd gotten myself off a few amazing times before. But it was the first time that someone else had ever gotten me off, and sharing that with someone seemed to take more out of me than the physical orgasm.

"M'OK." I mumble, slowly pulling back from his chest.

"I didn't actually think you'd come that hard."

"Well don't flatter yourself, it's been months, so stuff has been building up."

"Months? Jeez, Luke, why?"

"Why? First off I'm in the military, surrounded by a lot of people, no privacy, and then I was shot with stitches, and now I share a bedroom with 100 other guys."

"If I was in your position I'd never stop doing it! 100 other guys, Luke!"

I laugh tiredly, resting my forehead against his. "I happen to like privacy."

"Well you're young, pretty soon you'll get it whenever you can."

"I can't believe you made me jizz my pants."

"It was hot… your face."

"Don't." I blush furiously.

"OK." He smiles sweetly at me, brushing back the hair that's stuck in sweat at the side of my forehead. "Beautiful though," He mumbles. I feel softness, wetness, cold and then warm. My body is being pulled closer, my head tilted to the side. It takes me a few seconds before I recognize his lips against mine. Moving gently, pressing softly, my nose against his cheek, his eyelashes tickling mine. The kiss is sweet, gentile, soft; the perfect first kiss.

I wonder if we're done, how long does this last? Should I pull away now? Suddenly I feel his tongue licking at my lips and start to panic. What do I do? What does he want? What does that mean? My heat is racing but instinct takes over and my mouth is opening despite my brain and his tongue is entering wet and flicking into the hot cavern of my mouth and then he is against me, licking at my cheek, lapping at my tongue, feeling the grooves of my teeth. His hands are at either side of my face holding me in place as his tongue works against mine and I try to mimic his movements, pressing my tongue back against his and he is moaning, oh God he's moaning into my mouth and I can feel his moan inside my own throat and it's so much, too much, so hot and close, so scary and wanting. I push back from him sucking in breaths as my chest pants, my mouth hanging open.

"Ghnuu," is all I can manage to say.

Reid is licking his lips sinfully, his pupils blown as he looks at me predatorily, he would have eaten me if I had let him continue, I know it.

There are so many thoughts racing through my mind, (What was that? That was so amazing. I can't believe anything can feel that good. That was so weird. Can we do that again? What more can we do? Will everything pale in comparison to that kiss?), that I nearly miss the feeling of Reid's lips against mine again, this time chastely.

He pulls back from me with a self satisfied smile on his lips and slaps my face affectionately, letting his fingertips linger against my skin before turning away and disappearing into the night without a word.

My legs disappear from under me and I fall gracelessly to the ground. My head is spinning from sensory over load, my lips buzzing with heat from Reid and I reach my hand up to feel them swollen against my finger tips. I still feel as though Reid's tongue is in my mouth, hot and demanding, pushing and twisting with my own. He was so good at it, knew exactly how to move, where to press, what to do. What if I wasn't good? What if he was reconsidering this? I can learn right, he can teach me what to do? I can't believe Reid, an older German, was my first kiss. If you told me that a year ago back in Oakdale I would have run away terrified willing it not to be true. But now that I'm here and it's happened, I only want it to continue. I wonder if everybody's first kisses feel this amazing, that it is the newness of it that taints my view, but our chemistry, the undeniable passion and heat that emanates when we are around each other isn't imagined.

"Luke, are you OK?" My eyes wrench upward to see the large, broad figure of Noah standing over me.

"Oh, hey Noah. I'm fine, my legs got a little shaky, started to feel light headed."

"You're probably dehydrated."

Noah bends down and wraps his arms around me. Suddenly I'm very glad it's night and he can't see the wet spot in my jeans. Noah helps me up, wrapping an arm around my waist as I feel my legs give out again and I lean against his body. In my heightened sensory state I notice the bulging of his muscles through his army jacket. The tight grasp of his hand around my waist, his tall sturdy frame carrying my weight across the compound. He's hot; curly black hair, thick arms, ripped chest, very much the epitome of a masculine body. Yet, he does nothing for me. At night I won't dream about his curly hair twisting around my fingertips, I won't dream about licking his toned chest, or feeling his strong arms around me. I won't dream about random hot men anymore, I don't need them. I'll dream about Reid.

**So this is the turning point, from discovery to "oh there you are!" now their journey will perhaps take a new turn...**

**OK, question, I have 15 chapters uploaded and it won't let me upload anymore. It is saying something about "Document Limit Reached**

**You have reached the 15 document limit. Please convert you existing documents to stories and/or chapters before uploading more." but when I upload the chapters as DOCx, it makes them into stories and then I upload them into this story, so I'm sort of confused how to get more than 15 files in my Doc Manager. Anyone help? Or else no more story :(**


	14. Chapter 14

**I decided to make a time-line so that I could figure out when things happened, so…**

**Sometime in the summer of 1943 before his senior year of high school Luke comes out to his parents, and eventually the rest of the town. **

**May 1944 Luke gets his draft notice**

**Mid June Luke goes to basic training**

**Mid July Luke is shipped out**

**Late August Luke is captured**

**Late October Luke is released from the hospital**

**Now it's Thanksgiving.**

**And as we all know April 1945 the war in Germany ends**

CHAPTER 14

It's Thanksgiving morning and the camp is buzzing with activity. The Nazis are getting the mess tent ready for the big feast, and mail has arrived from back home. Everyone is sprawled out on their portion of the wooden bunks, opening boxes and letters. Noah is beside me gazing at a suggestive picture Maddie has sent to him.

I unfold the letter my father has sent me. I can smell the musky dead Fall leaves on the paper, the wonderful grounding scent of home.

_Dear Luke, _

_It is the first of November, and I hope that this letter reaches you before Thanksgiving. Mama is already planning this year's feast. Jack and Brad are coming with Carly, Katie and the kids. Of course Meg and Paul will be here, and Grandmother Lucinda with John Dixon. Unexpectedly, Uncle Caleb, Uncle Seth and Aunt Rose and her daughter Jade are also joining us this year. Mama's excited to have a full house to keep her busy, she misses you terribly Luke. We all miss you. I watch the newsreels and read the paper every day, hoping for news that this war will be over soon. It's looking good for our side, maybe we'll have you home by Christmas?_

The letter slips from my fingers to the floor. I wipe the tears from my eyelashes, but my heart can't take much more as the sobs begin to grow. I want to yell, "It's not fair!" I want to scream and punch a wall and have a temper tantrum like my younger siblings. I want to march up to the Nazis and beg them to let me go home. I've done nothing wrong. Please, please, just let me go home! My hands reach up to cover my face, pulling at the ends of my hair. I'd be embarrassed for breaking down like this in a room full of men but I'm not the only one in the room choking on tears.

It's 3am now in Oakdale, Thanksgiving is finished, the turkey destroyed, the squash carved, and the pie eaten. They are all drifting on peaceful dreams born out of full stomachs. Hours ago the house had roared with ruckus. The kids swerving through the adults, dashing between legs, chasing each other through the yard. The adults would be sitting in the parlor sipping on wine that Paul would bring from his cellar and talking about the latest news. At some point the air would fill with smoke as something Grandma Emma was cooking started to burn because one of the many cousins, aunts, uncles or grandkids had distracted her from her cooking.

Then later we would all sit around the table, the air mixed with warmth, spices, love and home. Grandma Emma would lead the family in Grace. I would link my hands with Faith or Natalie, feeling connected to every soul by the touch of fingertips. After Grace dad would stand up to make a toast and as customary everyone would start to protest that the food was getting cold. He'd promise to make it short and then tell everyone how glad he was that we were all gathered together to share the day.

I remember being a little boy and watching dad carve the turkey. I'd stand by his knee and watch the meat slide off the bone. Every once in a while he'd pick pieces off the bird and put them in his mouth claiming, "That piece fell off." Grandma would catch him sometimes and slap his wrist, telling him he had to wait for everyone else. Dad would say, "Sorry Mama," but then wink at me and do it again.

The loud chatter would dissolve into a rhythmic clatter of silverware and glasses as mouths became occupied with food. As a little boy I'd stop eating and look around the table, watching everyone eat with a smile on their face and feel so loved and protected. Last year didn't feel that way. After I told everyone I was a homosexual people either became stand offish or too polite. I wanted to scream to them, "I'm the same Luke!" They didn't understand, and I tried to disappear into the mayhem.

I wipe my nose and pick the letter back up to finish.

_Not much is new here at home except that I think our horse Blaze is pregnant. I'm thinking that Saber is the father. If that's true we'll have a new foal come Spring. I promised Natalie she could name this one since Faith got to name the last one, but if you're home by then maybe she'll let you. Although I know you probably don't care about that stuff anymore. _

_Sometimes I wonder how you've changed. You sound the same in your letters but I know that war must have changed you. The things you've seen and been through must have changed your personality, but when I think of you I think of my sweet adorable Luke with the big brown eyes and golden blond hair. The boy who put everyone else's needs before his, who looks out for his brother and sisters, and makes sure everyone is happy. I remember the boy I taught how to swim when he was five in Snyder Pond. I think of the seven-year-old who was too scared to learn how to ride a bike. But you did finally, didn't you, Luke?_

_I'm sorry; I shouldn't have started talking like that. I'll wrap this letter up before it becomes even harder to miss you. I love you so much Luke, we all miss you and wish your safe return soon! I hope you have some friends wherever you are and can take a little time out of your day to celebrate Thanksgiving in whatever capacity. I thank God everyday for you. _

_Lots of love,_

_Dad_

The ink smudges and runs as my crocodile tears soak the paper. I want to hold him. So much of what I want right now is to hold my dad. I want to hear him say my name. I love the way my dad says my name, and I love the way my mom still calls me Baby as if that's my name. I love it because it's them; it's my family. People think family is so simple, but that's the wonderful part about it. Your family will always be there. You grew up with them; you're familiar with them. Those things like traditions keep you grounded, secure and safe. What I wouldn't give for there to be a Hubbard squash for all of us to cut up tonight, a little piece of home.

I smile to myself as I fold the letter back up and put it in the envelope. The day has barely started and I feel exhausted. I lie down in my bunk and pull my wool blanket up to my chin. I dig in my pocket and pull out a picture of my family that I brought with me. It's a simple family portrait of mom, dad, Faith, Natalie, Ethan, grandma Emma and myself. We're all gathered around my father in the kitchen who has baby Ethan on his lap. Even though the picture was only taken two years ago I look so much younger than I do now. I know now that I am war worried and have become "a man" as they say, but the only way I really feel different now is that I found love. A love that burns with intensity but doesn't hurt at all.

There is a line out the mess tent door that twists around the building and down the main road of the camp. Thousands of prisoners and Nazis make their way in line to the food holding their tin cups and plates. As I reach the door the smell hits me immediately. I had assumed that the food would be a large stockpile of Red Cross ration cans. What I met with was anything but that. Real food, fresh real homemade food awaited me. There were vegetable dishes, meat dishes, a few turkeys, breads, pies, anything and everything.

"What in the world…" I gasp to myself.

"Didn't you know?" I turn behind me to see another American prisoner, "The German's bring food from home. Everything is homemade. It's not hot or anything, but it's damn good," he says, his mouth already salivating.

I grab a spoon and dig in to the mashed potatoes. I can hardly believe my eyes. Yes, the food it pretty much as cold as the 30 degree weather outside, but it's the first food I've seen in months not to come out of a can. I am nearly giddy with excitement as I pile my plate high.

"Hey, can you pass me that?" I look over my shoulder to the familiar voice and catch the beautiful blue eyes.

I stare at him, frozen with my arm halfway across the table reaching for some rolls. I look at him as if he is a ghost. I can't believe he's here, after he told me he wouldn't be, but that's so Reid, pretending not to care when we both know he wouldn't be able to pass up a chance to see me.

"Pass, me, that," he says slower.

"Uh huh." I blink, that is the only time I lose connection with his eyes as I feel for the tray of bread and pass it to him.

"Thanks."

My whole body is hyperkinetic, shaking as I hold back my muscles that itch to launch into Reid's body and bury myself in his skin. Even though I have only known him a few months he is the closest thing to home I have at the moment, and my body dances with need.

Reid takes a roll casually, putting it on his plate and moves around me to the turkey. I watch him fill his plate, prisoners yelling at me for holding up the line. Finally they move around me, and Reid disappears into the crowd.

I finish piling my plate with what I can feel is a stupid, stupid smile burning into my cheeks. I walk out of the mess tent into the cold air and look for a spot to eat. I feel as if I am in a forest of prisoners, we eat up the Earth for as far as my eye can see. I weave between men eating while dancing from foot to foot to keep warm. I round the corner and spot Noah sitting against the wall of the mess tent. In a perfect world I would continue searching and sit with Reid and enjoy our meal together. But the world is definitely not perfect, so I squat down beside Noah who is scooping pate out of a can.

"Hey, Luke."

"You do know that there is tons of food inside, right?"

"You think I'm going to eat something a Nazi made?" He says with pure vile.

"It's food Noah! Real food! What do you think they did, poison it?"

"I wouldn't put it past them."

"Noah, they are eating it too! Why would they poison themselves?"

"They'd do anything to kill us, Luke."

I can't roll my eyes hard enough, "Noah it's Thanksgiving, a time when the Indians and Pilgrims got together across a table and shared their food, even though in the years to come they would turn out to fight each other. Why can't you be thankful for what you have? You are the most annoying depressing person I have ever met, and I refuse to share this day with you! I'm sad enough as it is that I'm not with my family today and I don't need you bringing me down." I stand up, stomping off into the thousands of other people who are enjoying their wonderful Thanksgiving meal.

I pull my jacket around me tightly as I head into the wind, tromping through the falling snow towards the latrine. I see what I hope to be Reid's silhouette behind the street lamp.

"Hey." I whisper, walking up to him.

"First snow of the season," he says offhandedly.

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"There's no spark in your eyes like usual. I thought you'd be full of life today. You seem to be one of those big on holiday's people, and probably one of those people who celebrates the first snow of the season."

"It's snow." I shrug, "I've seen it before."

"OK, Luke." Reid sighs, rubbing his forehead, "What's going on?"

"I am one of those people who is big on holidays. I miss my family. I wish I was at home with them today. This is the first Thanksgiving that I've been away from them. I'm missing everything, especially the Hubbard squash."

"The what?"

"It's a big squash that we grow on the farm and every Thanksgiving the men of my family cut open with a saw, it's apparently very masculine."

"I cut things open with saws all the time. I must be the most masculine person ever."

"You are," I blush. "Anyway, we also go around the table and tell each other what we're most thankful for. I thought we could do that, with each other."

"We could do what?"

"Tell each other what we're most thankful for this year."

"Sounds lame."

"Please, Reid?" I fold my lower lip under, slightly shaking my chin and growing my eyes to the size of dinner plates.

"Ugh, fine, let's get it over with quickly."

"Give me your hands."

Reid looks around him, back and forth, craning his neck to check for any intruders before slipping his gloves into mine.

"I'll go first. For me this year I'm most thankful for you, Reid. I'm most thankful to have found you and to have you in my life even in the limited capacity we get right now. I was really sad today because I didn't get to be with my family, but the one thing that kept me from going completely insane with sadness was the knowledge that you were here with me. You coming to the Thanksgiving feast to see me means so much to me, more than you'll ever know. I'm so grateful for you Reid, every day." I look down and blush, kicking at the dusting of snow on the ground. I look up at him from under my eyelashes expectantly, waiting for him to reply. After a few awkward moments with only our breaths mixing in the air to cut the silence I speak, "What about you, Reid? What are you thankful for?"

"I'm not good at this, Luke," he mumbles, shifting uncomfortably.

"Not good at what?"

"Talking about my feelings."

"Oh, well that's OK. I know I talk a lot. Snyder's are known for talking a lot and being overly emotional, affectionate and dramatic. You can tell me when I get too carried away or over the top." I speak quickly, tripping over my tongue.

"You're getting too carried away and over the top," he deadpans.

"Right." I laugh awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. "You know, you're the first person I've ever kissed."

"I know. I could tell."

"Was I that bad?" I ask, panic rising in my chest.

"No," he smiles gently, reaching for my hand again and lacing our fingers, "just new."

"Oh, good. I was worried I wasn't doing it right."

"Well, practice makes perfect, right?" Reid grins, but it disappears as he pulls me forward. My eyes close and our lips meet again. The kiss starts out soft, but soon Reid's other arm is wrapped around my waist, holding our hips together and my mouth is opening in response to his advances. The heat of his exhale warms my frozen face as his tongue dances inside my mouth. I gently suck on it and get a hungry moan in response. I smile to myself, doing it again and am greeted with Reid's hips thrusting up towards me.

Reid pulls away breathless, looking around us nervously. "We can't keep meeting every night like this, I think they're starting to get suspicious, at least with me."

"Did they say anything? Do anything?"

"No, but I can't keep sneaking out when I have night shifts, and showing up in camp during my days off, or staying later when my shift is over. I mean they know I'm dedicated to my work, but it's starting to seem ridiculous."

"Ok, so what do we do? I can't not see you, Reid."

"We cool it down for awhile."

"But I can't live without you, I just told you you're the best thing I have in my life right now. You're the only reason I'm still holding on to my sanity in here."

"And you won't be living much longer if they find out."

I sigh, knowing he's right, I know we've been lucky so far; none of the Nazis have caught us together. "How long do we have to be apart?"

"I don't know. Maybe we can meet each other once every few weeks."

"Once every few weeks! Reid, I can't go that long without talking to you. I need to know you're OK."

"Luke, we have to, it's for both our own good."

"No, there's got to be a way around this. A new place to meet, change up our routine?"

"It won't work, I can't keep sneaking out, and either can you. They could be tailing us, observing. I know we've been careful, but they can be sneaky. They have watch towers for God's sake, Luke."

"OK, OK, hold on, let me think for a second." I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. My head is racing so fast I can't catch on to any coherent thoughts. I know I can't be apart from Reid it would be unbearable. It's bad enough being alone on Thanksgiving without my family, the letters help but they aren't the same as the Snyder clan, loud and wild all around me.

"Wait a second, what about letters? We could write to each other and then slip it into the daily mail."

"Oh yeah, sounds great, Dear Luke you are so hot I think about you all the time, sincerely Reid. They scan the mail Luke, you know that."

"Yes, but we won't use our names. We'll have code names. You can write to a girl back home, which will really be me. Call me Abigail. And then I'll write to my girlfriend back in Oakdale, Rebecca. If any of the Nazis find the letters they'll think we're writing home to our girlfriends. It's perfect! We can write in code too, so it really sounds like we're writing home, but in reality we're letting each other know how we're doing, and maybe we can even have a code for, let's meet up on this day. Like, if we write, 'Monday they are putting on a play,' that means the coming Monday we'll meet up."

"This is ridiculous, Luke, I'm not going to write and read in some kind of code language."

"Please, Reid?" I pull out my puppy dog eyes one more time, "Please do this for me, I can't go two weeks without hearing from you."

Reid rolls his eyes, looking so put upon. "Fine."

"Thank you."

He reaches in, clasping the back of my neck and pulling me in for a quick kiss.

"You're mine too, you know." Reid whispers breathy as his fingers caress my cheek.

"What?"

"What I'm thankful for. You're mine too."

I'll always be yours; I think to say but Reid turns and walks away. He looks back at me over his shoulder and winks, "I'll be waiting for your letter." I smile, my heart growing warm. Maybe this isn't such a bad Thanksgiving after all.

Yes, yes, I am pretty sure the Nazis didn't bring home cooked food for the prisoners, but come on it is Thanksgiving! And this is fiction, so you know what? I did it!


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter is completely letters. The first two letters are in full, and then the rest are pieced together like you are basically hearing a conversation. I thought it would be boring to read full letter of "what they did today" and writing to fake people, so I thought it would be interesting to cut to the parts that actually aid in character and story development. The boys do meet each other every once in awhile between all these letters. But basically they take us from Thanksgiving through the beginning of 1945. **

CHAPTER 15

_Dear my darling Rebecca,_

_Winter is most certainly upon us now. I'm not sure where in Germany I am, but we must be towards the north because these winter winds feel harsher than Illinois. There is nothing much to do in the camp besides think about the degree of freezing one's fingers are, or how empty the stomach is. It really makes all of us guys' day when we receive packages from home. The other day dad sent me a care package with drawings from Ethan and Natalie and an assortment of sweets. It's nice to have the bright reminders of home since everything here is so bleak. The packages are coming few and far between now as the Americans advance towards Germany. This is going to sound rude, but I wish they'd hurry up. I feel like I'm stuck in purgatory, waiting for my life to start again. When I joined the army I was glad to go and get away from everyone for awhile. I was scared to die, of course, but glad I was getting out of Oakdale. Now that I have you though, I wish this war would end. I'm ready to start my life again._

_Tell everyone in the family hi for me. I know that Faith is probably knee deep in exams before Christmas break. Ethan and Natalie are probably driving Grandma wild if it's as cold of a winter there as it is here and they can't go out of the house and run around. How is Johnny doing? I hope he doesn't miss me too much. Tell him that I'll be coming home soon, but unfortunately not for Christmas. I miss you very much. You are all I can think about, and I have plenty of time to think. Write me soon. _

_Sincerely, your Lukie_

_/  
><em>

_Dear my darling Abigail,_

I laugh; I can hear Reid's sour sarcasm as he writes.

_First off, no pet names._

_Things here are much the same, work is going smoothly of course. As you know this kind of field surgery is not up to the level of my brilliance, but still I continue to slice bodies and extract shrapnel. Possibly after the war the service I gave to my country will not go unnoticed and I will be able to get that research position at Munich University. _

_In your last letter you spoke of a boy named Johnny. I am not familiar of anyone with that name. Who is Johnny? Don't tell me you're having an affair on me already. I know that we have been apart for quite some time, but I assumed that you of all people would be able to hold off on physical needs until my return. I know you so well I can feel you blushing already. But do tell me who is this Johnny? Is he another sibling or cousin? You do have an army of relatives. I think your family could single handedly take down the German army, if only by boring them to death with stories. _

_All my best, Reid Oliver_

__/__

_It's 6pm here Christmas day. I just returned from the mess tent, which is full of home cooked food. It is nice not to eat out of a can again, but nothing will ever taste as good as Grandma Emma's honey ham, sweet potatoes, or the homemade sugar cookies we'd decorate the week before. Not only did we have a Christmas "feast" but also many of the prisoners made each other presents. Noah carved me a horse out of a piece of wood he found in the yard one day. It's quite a piece of craftsmanship. I'm not really good at crafting things, so I helped Noah write a love poem to his girlfriend Maddie. Don't be jealous, dear, I'll write you one too sometime. _

_I am full of excitement knowing that you and the rest of the family are waking up right now, heading downstairs to see all the wonderful toys underneath the Christmas tree. I can clearly see our son Johnny unable to sleep as Santa and his sleigh come to deliver presents. I hope you got him lots of good toys this year, as he deserves them. Johnny is such a good boy. _

_Wish everyone a Merry Christmas from me. I hope to be home soon. _

_Ever yours truly, Luke_

__/__

_Abigail I think you have gone mad in the head without me in the house, for you speak of a son Johnny, yet we have no son. Now if you'll please refrain from the crazy I'll write to you like a normal adult, if not the letters stop now. _

__/__

_I know we do not have a son yet, but with all the time I have in this camp to think, I can't help but dream about the family we will have when I get home. First we'll have a boy so that he can be the oldest, like me, and help protect his younger sisters. If you don't like the name Johnny we can discuss others. Johnny happened to be the first one that popped into my head. What do you think about having four children total? My parents have four kids, and I always wanted to take after them. Two boys, and two girls. Doesn't it sound wonderful? I am so excited for our future! _

__/__

_Abigail, I am worried about the state of your mental health. You know that we cannot have children and yet you prattle on about us having sons and daughters. I do wish you'd GO SEE A DOCTOR about your condition._

__/__

_I am sorry that my talking about a family upset you. When this war is over and we are together we can talk about it when things are clearer. It's just that since I was a little boy I always imagined myself with a big family, with lots of children. I have so much love to give, Rebecca. I want to share all the traditions that my family has with my children. I want to raise a child, teach them how to swim and ride a horse. I want to watch them cut the Hubbard squash for the first time. Don't you want that?_

__/__

_It's not that I don't want a family, it's that it is completely impossible. I know I am a doctor, but even a simple person like you must know the fundamentals of human conception. And don't even begin to talk about adoption with me; you know that can never happen either. I would like the visions of bassinets and baby booties to be erased from your head, not only for my sake but for yours as well. _

__/__

_You're right, I need to stop torturing myself with the thought of a family that will never happen. It's hard because all my life I was raised on the idea of family first, and now I will never get my own. It's hard and it hurts and I don't want to be sad, I'm already sad enough as it is with missing you. I miss you so much. I miss holding you. I miss looking into your eyes and knowing exactly how you really feel even if your words speak a different tune. I miss the simple act of your fingers between mine. I miss everything about you and I can't wait for this war to be over so that I can be with you again, really be with you. Feel your skin against mine. Feel your hands in my hair as we grasp for frantic kisses. I dream about your fingers at night, dancing over my skin, reading me like brail. I dream about your teeth, biting gently at the hollow of my neck, at the space behind my ear. Your hands massaging places on me no one's ever touched. Mapping me, memorizing, marking as your own. I wonder what you smell like in the dusky afterglow of sex. Your face relaxing, your lips slightly parted, your eyes half soft with sleep. I gaze at you for hours did you know that? In my dreams I gaze at you for hours in your blissed out post-orgasmic sleep. It is the most beautiful image I can ever imagine. _

__/__

_Dear I had no idea you liked to write smut. I'd prefer you not write me smut when you are not around for me to do anything about it, but I quite appreciate it none-the-less. Guess you aren't the sweet virgin you claim to be. Now more than ever am I excited for the war to be over so I can come home to you. _

__/__

_Where will we live after the war? I live with my parents and you with yours. Shall we move to a different town or would you like to join me at the farm? I would love it if you would come to live at the farm with me when we start our life together. Then later we can find our own place close by. Grandma Lucinda has a cottage near her house we might be able to have. I'm sure she'd let us. We could fix it up real nice, put our own personal touches in the place so that it would feel like our own home. What do you think? I can write Grandmother now and let her know we're thinking about moving in so she can get the place ready. It has been empty for ages, no one ever uses it, I'm sure she'll be so excited to finally have someone enjoy the home. Let me know! _

__/__

_I have a life in the town we live in now, Abigail. I have duties and responsibilities that I can't leave. Hopefully as I said a job at Munich University awaits me at wars end, so we'd have to move to Munich or Berlin if I get an offer to do research there. _

__/__

_Germany is so far from home, Rebecca. Even though for the most part the Germans have been nice to me, and the country that I've seen is beautiful, it is still foreign and far away. I don't think I could ever live here. My heart yearns for Oakdale, I would never be happy anywhere else._

__/__

_I thought you said that the people of your town turned their back on you a year ago when you told them your secret? Why would you want to live in a place that doesn't accept you? Berlin before the war was a haven for people like us. Even in the streets we could be free to be ourselves in the open. I think if you experienced something as freeing as that you'd never want to go back to your town where judgmental people look at you with sideways glances and sneer. You will love Berlin or Munich, I promise. _

__/__

_I can't, Rebecca, I'm sorry. I know how much you love where you live, and yes it does sound amazing to be free especially after being locked away in this camp for months, but my home is my home. It's not perfect but it's where I belong. I hope you can understand. _

__/__

_I understand, but I don't know where that leaves us?_

__/__

_The sun rises high in the Eastern sky_

_Birds fly across the horizon and I_

_Lay here with pen and paper idly by_

_See the sky turn from orange to pink to blue_

_And I watch it melt into eyes so perfectly you_

_So crisp and clear they are to me_

_And they sing a haunting melody_

_Of a time that has gone by_

_When you were just a memory_

_Of something I was yet to see _

_Within the prison of my mind I had the tendency_

_To think that God grants us only one destiny _

_That there was only one path for me _

_Then I met you and that path shattered_

_My destiny lay in pieces but nothing else mattered_

_Besides the feel of your lips and caress of your hand_

_Breaking everything in my life I had planned_

_I will go wherever you are_

_Travel across oceans and countries afar_

_For you have ruined me so perfectly_

_And I am excited and anxious to finally see_

_All the other dreams that are afforded to me_

_Because now there is a new destiny _

_Ahead of me and it's you._


	16. Chapter 16

It is a week into 1945 before I see Reid again. A deep chill set in around the camp causing me to crunch through a foot of frozen solid snow as I make my way towards the latrine. The sky is clear and a black expanse hovers over me with millions of sparkling stars. I wonder briefly if there is someone on one of those stars staring up at me. The thought is freeing and exciting, the idea of how many different worlds are out there waiting to be discovered. Before the war all I knew of life was Oakdale, and now that I've traveled across the globe and walked across different countries, the world feels as if it's opened up for me. For the past few weeks I'd been struggling with the thought of leaving my safe small town forever, and now all I can feel is the excitement and thrill of staying here in Germany and living a completely new life. Learning a new language, living in a new town, and meeting people who will be extremely different from me. The best part though is that all of the discovery will be made with Reid.

I step through the lamplight covering the cobble street and pass into the shadow of the latrine to stand next to Reid.

"Hey," I say, unable to keep the excited giggle out of my voice.

"Hey yourself."

"What's new?"

"Not much. Are we going to engage in simple small talk for the rest of the night, because I'm freezing my ass off and I'd gladly go back to the hospital."

"Is this the kind of welcome home I should expect when we live together?"

"Are you objecting to it?"

"On the contrary I could live with your dry rude sarcasm forever."

"So you're really going to stay with me in Germany after the war, huh?"

"Uh huh." I run my tongue over my top teeth coyly.

"What changed your mind?"

"You were right…"

"Ahh my three favorite words."

I roll my eyes and ignore him, "If Germany is as accepting to people like us as you say it is, I mean once the Nazis are defeated, then I really would like to live in a world where we wouldn't have to hide anymore. I think we've hid enough over these past months, don't you?"

"It's not all going to be glamorous, Luke, but it sure sounds better than the small town you live in."

"Do you think the German people will accept me? I mean if America wins the war, which it looks like they are going to, won't people be mad?"

"When America wins the war they'll OWN Germany," Reid says. I giggle, unable to contain my giddiness.

"You know it's funny, when I first told you I wouldn't stay with you in Germany it was out of fear. I had this picture in my mind ever since I was a little boy of how my life was supposed to be. I always dreamed of having a wife and kids. That we'd get a house near the farm and I'd help dad with the chores every day and live a simple unassuming life like all the other Snyder's before me. I had everything figured out and then my life changed. I realized that I wouldn't have the wife. Or, maybe I would but it wasn't what I wanted. And I started to picture something new, a man beside me. And then I met you and my dreams started taking shape. I saw you beside me at Snyder farm. I saw you and I making a home together and raising children. I couldn't let go of the destiny that my family pushed me towards even though everything around me was changing.

I thought we were all given only one destiny, one path that we were allowed to travel. You changed everything, my whole life. I felt what I thought was my destiny slip away. But then I had an epiphany that maybe where life takes you changes as you grow. So what I once thought was supposed to be turned out not to be true. And now there is a new destiny ahead of me, with you. If you want to live in Munich or Berlin or the moon I'll follow you. I'm meant to be with you, I know now that is true."

"Are you done?" His tone is bored, but I can see through his façade of indifference. I may be a puppy dog that is jumping up and down clawing at the door so excited that their master is about to open the door and let them frolic freely outside, and Reid is the old lap dog that lazes around the fire and looks bored with everything around him because he's already seen it, but secretly loves the new little puppy to whom everything is new and fresh and brings a new light to everything for the old lap dog.

I bounce on the balls of my toes, trying to physically manifest the excitement brewing and boiling inside of me, needing a release before I explode from joyous overload. Reid rolls his eyes with a gentile fondness, reaching out to brush his fingertips across the naked strip of my wrist between my jacket and glove.

The touch of his fingertips sends a spark up my nerve into my brain. Like a key fitting into a lock never opened, emotions I'd never experienced wash over me, tingling every fiber in my body, heightening every sensation. His fingertips still press against my flesh. They feel as if they are burning their imprint into me. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming and without any thought, only physical need I launch at Reid's face, crashing our lips together. Through our connection I pour all of my excitement, joy and giddiness. I fist his curls in my hand, pulling him this way and that as I attack his mouth from every angle. I suck desperately at his tongue, full of neediness and want. I feel his hands on my shoulders, I moan shuffling closer, but he roughly shoves me back.

"Are you fucking insane!"

"What?" I blink, dizzied and confused.

"You can't just kiss me, have you lost your mind? You have to control yourself." His voice is hard and angry.

"I can't help it," I smile sheepishly.

"You have to," he growls, looking in every direction behind me and behind himself.

"Well I'm sorry, OK?" I can feel his heat leave my body as he steps back, the cold January air rattles through my bones.

"You will be if they catch us. They'll kill us for what you did."

"Why are you being so cold all of a sudden?"

"Because you're an idiot."

"Reid come on, it was one stupid kiss!"

"Do you even understand the ramifications; the sacrifice we make for one stupid kiss?"

"You kissed me here before."

"I checked around first."

"No one saw us, relax." I reach out to touch his shoulder. He grabs my wrist and throws my hand back at my face. "What the hell is your problem?" I scream at him.

His hand comes at me, hard and fast. My frozen cheek stings from the impact. A dull ache spreads over my face. I reach my fingertips up and brush them gently against my throbbing flesh.

"Shut up you fucking idiot do you want them to hear you?"

I gasp at his words, looking up to his eyes with fear as they pierce into me like daggers. I have never seen his eyes look so ice cold before. I can feel the tears filling up my eyes so I turn away from him and run back to my barrack. I feel sobs shake my burning chest as I suck in lungs full of frozen air. I close my eyes against my stinging tears, running blindly through the empty camp. In my head Reid calls out for me, begging me to stop. Yelling apologies as he chases after me. I wait for the movie to happen, where Reid grabs my arm, pulls me around and in a dizzying haze our lips crash together and I forgive him. In reality he stands there and says nothing. I can see his shadow on the ground get smaller as I run. He does not make a move to stop me while tears bite at my skin, the wind freezing them as I run.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

I am such an idiot for even thinking about moving to Germany of all places, with a guy I barely know, who I only met 4 months ago. Who is rude and cold and mean and intense and sexy and… no. I sniffle at the mucus trying to escape my nose. I refuse to let Reid upset me. The welt on my cheek has turned dark and blue. I had to lie and say I slipped on the ice outside and hit my cheek on a rock when Noah asked what happened to my face.

I grab another letter from its hiding place between the boards of my bunk and begin tearing it to shreds. The pieces fall to my lap like snow. The kind that melts into black ice on the road, you never see it coming until BAM it hits you.

"Shoot," I hiss as the paper slices my finger. I suck the blood into my mouth, tasting the iron burn.

I look down at my lap covered in hundreds of tiny ripped pieces of paper. The lopsided O's and looping K's of Reid's hand writing stare back at me, speaking promises of forever and always and a future in Germany. A future now as broken as the skin of my finger, bleeding with the salt of my tears that Reid will never see nor ever care. I should have listened to my mother when she told me that men can't love each other the way a woman and a man love each other. She said I was being ridiculous and needed to grow up. Maybe I did need a smack in the face to wake me up from my fantasy.

It's all Disney's fault, the idea they put into my head, coerced into memory by melody and lyrics, "Someday my prince will come." What a crock. What they don't show you after the fade out, after their fairytale book closes on the couple, is the Price smacking the Princess for saying or doing something he doesn't like. So much for happily ever after.

I fall back on my bunk, staring up at the bunk above me. It looks like it's sagging in towards me, about to break and crush me. The barrack walls feel like they are closing in on me, tighter and tighter until I can't breathe. Without Reid to distract me I notice my confinement. Not only is the bitter wind keeping me inside, but also the barrack itself has become monotonous and suffocating. All the men look the same; all the beds have the same hay "mattress" and Red Cross blanket. We eat out of cans every day, the same processed meat and stale bread. Outside the snow covers the compound in a blanket of white, making every building indistinguishable from another. The streets look like they go on forever, blending in to the snowy fields that surround our encampment. There is no color, no vibrancy, no joy.

My shoulders shake and I turn over to bury my face in my pillow, muffling my moan, "I want to go home."

/

The wind stings against my cheek as I walk through the camp aimlessly trying to clear my head from the clutter I left in torn pages scattered over my bunk. Three days have passed since Reid smacked me and my bruise is turning a purple mustard color.

"Luke!" I stop in my tracks hearing a familiar voice whisper to me in the empty air. I turn the corner of the mess tent and see Katie standing there.

"Katie? What are you doing here?"

"Explicit instructions to deliver this to you," she hands me an envelope marked Abigail in Reid's circular handwriting.

"No thanks," I mumble, handing it back. "You can deliver my message of go to hell."

"Luke, please read his letter. He's really upset."

"Because he hurt his hand against my face?"

Katie looks at me stubbornly. "No. Look, I'm not really sure what went down, by the look of your face I can tell it wasn't great, but give him a chance. I've known Reid for over a year and trust me when I say that a few months ago I could tell something in him changed. He started being nearly polite to his patients, actually engaging them in thoughtful conversation. He smiles, Luke, a real smile that he can't hold in even though I can tell it irks him that he can't erase it. Within the past few weeks he's been outright babbling about after the war. I don't know what got into him but he's been itching around to get everything done with so he could go back home. I'd never heard him use the word home before. He always says Munich or his apartment, or something else but he used the word home and I'm assuming that has something to do with you."

"So what?" I shrug.

"So give him a chance. I'm assuming he hit you, and I know that's never right, and even if you'll never forgive him you'll never forgive yourself for not hearing him out. Please Luke? I see the way he looks at you and you look at him, there's something special there. I know you two can work it out," she hands me back the envelope and I take it reluctantly.

"You can tell him I took his letter, but don't get his hopes up or anything, this doesn't mean that I'll forgive him."

She nods understanding, "I'll let him know. Thanks, Luke. Reid's a pill to work with regularly, but when he's upset he's insufferable," she gives me a small smile before walking off back to the hospital.

I touch the corners of the envelope in my hand, looking at the twisting letters that make up my fake name. I sigh, emotionally exhausted, and slip the letter behind my back into my jeans and cover it with my coat.

/

The barrack is loud, men shouting and laughing. There are two guys wrestling in the corner surrounded by a large group of spectators. Everyone in the camp is going stir crazy, unable to leave the shabby shelter because of string of days with sub-zero temperatures.

I discreetly pull the envelope from behind my back and open it up, unfolding a piece of blank paper to read:

_iDear my beloved Abigail,_

_I am sorry for the harshness of my last letter. I didn't mean to say those things to you, but I'm worried. We need to be careful, we could be dead soon with the American advancement towards Germany. You don't know what they'll do to us. I want you to be safe. I can't live if something happens to you. You scare me with your openness and naivety and innocence. To you the world is beautiful, even though you've seen war you still believe in the best of people. That's not how the real world is, Abigail, and I refuse to let you see the darker side of people, which is why we need to keep you safe. Please be careful, you mean the world to me. You're the most beautiful thing that's ever been created. Do you understand how devastated and broken I would be if I'm forced to watch someone destroy you? _

_I hope you can forgive me for my outburst. I'm terrified, neurotic, paranoid, and it doesn't end with the war. We will always be like this. I hope you understand and are ready to deal with it for the rest of your life. It never ends._

_Please forgive me, even though I don't deserve it. _

_Sincerely, _

_Reid_ /i

I stare dumbfounded at the letter, unable to tell if that was an apology or a warning? Is this what Germans consider an apology? Say your sorry but blame what you did on everything else but the fact that you were a jackass. I sigh, fold up the letter and put it back in the envelope. It's times like these I wish I could talk to my dad. He's the one I always went to when I had a problem. He's the first person I went to when I got my draft notice and he told me to go serve my country that I couldn't run away from a fight. Maybe that's what this was with Reid and I, a fight. I've see my parents fight plenty of times to know that a fight doesn't necessarily mean the end. My dad was right, I can't run away and be a coward, I have to face my battles head on like I did with Noah, Casey, and Kevin back in the foxhole. That was the battle that started it all and now I have to face Reid and end it.

/

"What do you want?" I step under the lamplight and glare at Reid.

"To apologize."

"You did that already in your letter."

"Oh so you did actually read it?"

"As a favor to Katie, nothing more."

"Of course," he rolls his eyes.

"Well go ahead, I'm waiting," I say coldly.

Reid shifts in his shoes, crunching the snow beneath him. "I didn't mean to hit you, I reacted in the heat of the moment, I wasn't thinking."

"That's an understatement of a lifetime. You think your apology is going to take away the purple swelling in my cheek? Having to explain to everyone why my face looked like someone smacked it?"

"I'm sorry, Luke, I don't know what else you want me to say? You know I didn't mean it."

"I don't get you, Reid. One minute we're planning our future, moving in together, and the next minute you're screaming at me and hitting me for touching you! What do you want from me?"

"I want you, Luke, I do, but we have to be careful out here and you were getting carried away and I couldn't stop you."

"So you smacked me?"

"It got you to stop."

"Oh ha, ha."

"Maybe you don't understand how dangerous it is for us to be together here, but I do."

"Reid you're paranoid! They're not looking, they don't care!"

"That's dangerous thinking."

"We've been sneaking around for four months and they haven't noticed."

"Because we're been careful."

"And we will be…"

"You weren't careful Luke!" I step back away from his temper. Reid groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm scared," he sighs tiredly, looking directly into me with his piercing blue eyes that have softened around the edges since I came along, "I'm so scared." His voice shakes with a quality I'd never heard before, vulnerable and terrified.

I sigh, all the anger and tension inside me blows away with the harsh wind. I can see the honest fear in his eyes. Maybe that fear doesn't only come from the Nazis, but from me, our relationship. Maybe we are going too fast, I mean we've only known each other for four months and then I'm going to cross an ocean for him and leave my family? My romantic heart wanted it to be true, but maybe this is only a relationship of inconvenient convenience. When the war is over we'll both go back to our lives and look back fondly at a war time tryst.

I turn my eyes up to Reid who is shivering in the wind, more than from cold, but from nerves and fear. I know we barely know each other, I know he is a man, I know I am young, but there is a fire that burns inside me, that started with Reid and never ends. We met under unimaginable circumstances, but that doesn't mean our connection isn't real.

I look at the worried expression on his face, one of the few emotions besides lust I'd ever seen him convey and my heart aches. Sighing I whisper, "I forgive you," he looks up at me a spark in his eyes and opens his mouth. I hold up a hand indicating I'm not done, "But let it be known that if you make a habit out of smacking me around…"

"I'd never Luke!" His voice is laced with panic again.

"I know." I say gently, quickly easing his worries. "Is it OK if I hug you?" Reid looks around us before pulling me inside the shelter of the latrine. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close. He squeezes me in his arms, breathing in deeply against the side of my neck.

"I'm so, so sorry, Luke. I never meant to hurt you, ever. I wasn't thinking. All I could feel was fear and how terrified I am every second of every day."

"Shh," I hum gently against his ear, "It's going to be OK Reid. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to be scared." I brush my lips against his cheek and he clings on to me tighter.

**I am very sad I wanted to make a joke about Col. Mustard and Prof. Plumb having an affair together and creating his bruise, lol, but sadly Clue was not released in the US until 1949. **

**Also, if I can subtract correctly Luke would have been 12 when Snow White was released. **


	18. Chapter 18

The ocean rocks me to and fro, in my mother's arms safe and warm. The rhythm of the water lulls me in an out of sleep as I travel across the Atlantic towards home. It's so warm in my mother's arms cuddled against her chest. So warm, too warm, hot, burning, sweating. I kick at the covers tangled around my legs as the boat rocks back and forth, waves crashing over the sides. So cold, freezing, shivering, I grab back at the blankets. Mom, I wonder, mom, mom, but her arms are gone, so cold all alone, the blankets so hot, too hot, burning, I kick them off. The rocking of the sea tightens my throat in nausea as I lean over my bunk and empty my stomach to the floor.

"Luke?"

I scream as tentacles latch on to me, yanking me off my bunk and onto the floor. I try to grab on to them, tear them off. The arms are slimy and slip out of my reach, there are too many of them, I can't escape.

"Help! Help me!" I shriek as I feel myself lifted weightlessly off the floor and plunged into the ocean. I can't breathe as the waves crash over me, suffocating. I thrash to release myself but only manage to get caught tighter in the web.

"Luke hold still damnit before I drop you!"

"Let go of me, leave me alone!" I wriggle my body back and forth trying to dislodge myself from my captor. I feel a sting against my cheek and freeze. I feel another sting and another, in waves all over my body. A swarm of bees is attacking me.

"Bees!" I fling my hands up swatting them away. "Let go of me they are attacking me!" I feel my throat swell from the venom in their sings.

"Luke, there aren't any bees, calm down."

"They're all over me!"

"Luke, it's the wind that's stinging your face, all the bees are dead this time of year."

"Get them off of me!"

"Luke for goodness sake calm down!"

Sobs wretch out of my closing throat and my body stills. "Please put me back, I want to go back, please," I cry.

"What's going on, what happened?" I hear a new voice, a serious voice. I am plunged into bright white light that holds the bees at bay. Everything feels calm and still.

"Put him down here." I am floated on a cloud, soft and gentile. The world vibrates around me but I am still.

"Luke, can you hear me?"

"Yes, who are you?" I am choking, an object is being forced into my throat, it is cold and smooth. A gun. They are going to execute me. I crack open my eyes to see a blood red swastika. Nazi. He's going to execute me.

"No don't, please don't shoot me, please," but my cries are muffled by the barrel in my mouth.

"His fever is 104, doctor," a sweet woman's voice says before the gun is extracted.

"Mommy?" I sniffle.

"No Luke, it's Katie, you remember me."

"Mommy?" I moan mournfully, feeling sobs fill my throat.

"No sweetheart I'm not your mom, but I'm the next best thing, got it?"

"The Nazis are trying to kill me," I whisper to her, so as not to be overheard.

"No honey, they're not. I promise you're safe here."

"Will you hold my hand and pet my hair? My mom always did that for me."

"Sure thing." I feel soft fingers envelope my left hand and the same gentile touch card through my hair around my left temple. I sigh loudly, finally taking a deep breath and relaxing.

"Ow!" I scream, clutching on to Katie's hand. Down the length of my right forearm I feel sharp stings. The bees are back.

"They're stabbing me, they're stabbing me!" I scream, trying to tear my arm away from their grasp.

"Damnit Luke hold still."

I open my eyes to see his blue eyes. My body instantly stills. "Reid?"

I feel my arm strapped down and a wet cold spread down my hand before he replies, "Yes, it's me."

"Reid they are trying to kill me. First a monster tried to drown me and then these bees were attacking me and then a Nazi put a gun in my mouth…"

"No, Luke you have an extremely high fever, you were hallucinating. One of your bunk mates brought you to the hospital so I can fix you."

"I'm sick?" I frown.

"Yes, you're sick."

"But you'll fix me like you did before?"

"Of course."

"I'll go get some cool washcloths." I feel the soft delicate fingers leave mine, but soon after I feel Reid's strong familiar hand replace them.

"You are going to be fine, Luke, you just need medicine and rest."

"And you'll be here watching over me?"

"I'll keep a close eye on you. Now, you need to rest," he gives my hand a gentile squeeze. "I'll check on you in a bit."

"No, Reid, no don't leave."

"I have other patients, I can't sit vigil at your bedside."

"Please, I don't want to be alone," I sniffle.

"I'll have Katie sit with you, how's that?"

"OK," I pout.

"OK." I feel Reid's body rise beside mine and his fingers slip away from my hand after a squeeze.

"Wait, Reid, before you go, can I have a kiss?"

"Luke you know…"

"Please, Reid."

"No, Luke."

"Mom always said that kisses make every boo-boo better."

"Yes well I'm not your mother, and that is a ridiculous and grossly untrue statement."

"Please Reid, kiss me."

"I'll be back later."

"Reid kiss me, kiss me."

"Shh, Luke be quiet."

"No, kiss me, please Reid kiss me." My head lolls from side to side as if I have no bones. My body feels like a pile of jelly.

"If I kiss you will you be quiet?"

"Mhm." I mumble, my face feeling like putty.

Reid leans over and kisses me softly. "Get some sleep," he hums against my lips before pulling away. "I'll check on you later." I grin happily as I feel my body wash away to sleep, Reid's kiss still pressed against my lips.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

I have never fully appreciated the view of Reid's backside before. The way his lab coat hangs over his butt and fits tightly over the curve of his muscles. Reid is across the aisle from me, leaning over another patient's bed working, giving me a glorious view covered in black jeans. I lay back on my pillows, arms stretched under my head for support as I watch Reid work. I notice the Commandant and two S.S. men walk up to Reid. I can't hear what they are saying, but by the look of Reid's body language they are fighting. I sit up as if the three inches would make any difference in my ability to hear. One S. S. soldier grabs Reid's forearm, jerking him harshly towards the door. Reid rips his hand away, turning around, now facing me, and even from my distance across the room I can see his eyes wide with fury and confusion. I sit up closer, scooting to the edge of my bed, still unable to make out any words until both S.S. men grab Reid and I hear him shout, "Let me go!" before struggling and twisting out of their reach.

"Dr. Oliver you come with us willingly or you will be forced to come with us."

"I have patients here I need to attend to so if you'll leave me…"

"No, Dr. Oliver that is not an option," the commandant motions a signal with his head to the S. S. man behind Reid.

An involuntary scream is wretched from my throat as the S.S. man swings his club. A loud crack echoes off the bare walls as the club makes contact with the side of Reid's head. Blood twists across the room to land on the white bed linens like ribbons. Reid's body, void of life, crumples to the floor.

"Reid!" I cry out to him as the S.S. kick his writhing body. "Reid!"

I tear at my blankets, which twist around my legs, shakily trying to fight against them and my fever, pushing myself up off the bed and dizzily running forward towards Reid. With every step I take, it feels as if he drifts further away.

"Reid!" I scream at the top of my lungs. My voice pounds in my head, the only thing I can hear is my own frantic cry, but everyone around me lays still and ignoring. "Reid!" I am close enough now to see his body twitching, eyes closed, soft moans escaping as his own blood pools around his mouth.

"Reid!" I stretch out my hand as if those few feet will close the gap that feels like oceans between us. I can feel my feet running forward, burning with strain as I push them forward and suddenly I run into a wall. I can still see Reid but my feet no longer propel me forward, something is holding me back, around the chest, keeping me still, blocking my advance towards Reid.

"Reid! Reid!" My throat is raw with his name as I scream over the barricade. I watch as Reid's body falls limp, "Reid get up please!"

"Luke you have to be quiet. You're only making it worse for him." I hear Katie's voice against my ear.

"I have to help him Katie, they don't know what they're doing!" I try to wrench myself free of her grip. The room spins into a sea of red, of Reid's blood spreading across the floor, staining the ocean between us maroon. I lunge my body forward trying to knock Katie out of my way but Katie's resolve to keep me from Reid is even stronger than mine to reach him.

"Stop it, Luke!" Katie pushes me back into my bed, and I fall helplessly against it. She looks at me piteously, "You can't help him now."

I am breathing heavy. My body feels weak and aching. My hands shake at my sides and the only strength I can muster is to lean my head over to look around Katie who is blocking my view of Reid. I watch silently, all my words already ripped from my throat, as the S.S. grab Reid's legs and drag him out into the snow, leaving a trail of blood on the floor. I feel the sobs wrenching my body forward into Katie's arms. I twist my fingers around her uniform like a child to its mother. "Oh God no," I cry a wet spot on her blouse. Katie's hand rubs my back trying to shush me as I moan, "Please Reid, please, come back."

**I tried to make this more dramatic but it kept coming out cheesy, so I've decided in this case, less is more.**


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

I am swimming in his pool of blood. I am drowning, arms latching on to me pulling me down. White linens line the room, slashed with stains of innocent blood. They speak to me, crying out, but the arms pull me down. I wrench myself free, gasping at air, running towards the voice. I see Reid, surrounded by iron, his fists white holding the bars, his mouth open in permanent terror. I run faster, sloshing through the red tinted snow, running towards him. Nazis, guns, swastikas, bars, fencing. I stop, sucking in a deep breath and look around me. The trees glow gold under the afternoon sunlight. The air is warm, the snow melted mushy under foot. Snyder pond sits calmly in front of me reflecting the beautiful sky, so blue like his eyes, peaceful like his arms and his mouth, screaming, bleeding, and crying out for me…

"Reid!" I jerk out of bed, drenched in sweat. I gasp for air, looking around me at the hospital wing. Where once there was blood streaking the floor there is nothing. Doctors and nurses bustle around the room as usual. Patients are sleeping, eating, reading, everything is calm. I wipe at my eyes and look again but the scene remains the same.

I relax, smiling and lower myself back on to the pillows. A dream, a stupid, scary, heart pounding, terrifying dream, but still only imaginary, not true. I made it all up in my head, I giggle joyfully to myself.

"Something amusing private Snyder?"

I glance up to notice the commandant and another doctor standing over me. "What?"

"One wouldn't think you'd be smiling, but then I would understand why you were."

"Um, excuse me?" I look from the commandant to the doctor I'd never seen before. His face is dark, covered by a thick beard. His eyes are sunken and cold, but not cold like Reid's. Cold down to the soul instead of a cold mask sheltering his true self waiting for someone to warm it, melt down his guard.

"Private Snyder, this is Dr. Gerhardt, he will be your physician from now on."

I run my tongue along my grimy teeth before speaking. My mouth tastes like wet molding socks, "Where is Dr. Oliver?"

"Indisposed at the moment. Do not worry, he will not be around to harm you any longer."

"What do you mean? Where is he?" I try to sit myself up but my muscles are jelly and collapse beneath me.

"We sent him to Dachau where he won't be able to infect the masses with his depravity."

"Is that another hospital?"

The Commandant chuckles happily, "Oh no, where he is going the doctors will be practicing on him." The new doctor and the Commandant laugh maniacally with hatred in their eyes black as sludge and thick as tar. I look away before they can suck me into the vacuous pit of their souls.

"I don't understand, what is Dachau?"

"It is a camp that we have made where people like him go. Where he will be treated as he deserves. Starved, frozen, worked to exhaustion, and beaten."

"If he is lucky he will die," the new doctor adds.

"You're lying." I say through gritted teeth.

"Lucky you are an American or we would send you there too."

"I don't believe you, why would Germans want to hurt their own people?" They laugh at me, as if sharing a secret joke between each other and walk away.

I reach up with a groan, rubbing my forehead that pounds in confusion.

I can't believe any of them, they are all liars. They know I'm homosexual and are having a laugh at the expense of my terror, that's all. They are stupid and they're mean but that's all. They'd never take Reid away, he's their best doctor. I lay back on the bed, feeling more relaxed with every convincing argument I thought. But a place deep inside of me still couldn't stop remembering the cracking sound of Reid's skull, the way the blood spattered on the hospital linens and the ragdoll way his body crumpled to the floor. No, no that was only a dream, they probably transferred him like before, gone to save a solider with a bad head injury, he'll be back.

I sit up quickly, a spark of an idea in my head. Last time Reid went away Katie came to tell me. I have to find Katie. My eyes sweep the room until I spot her a few patients down helping one of the men back into bed.

"Katie!" I say loud enough only so that she can hear me. She turns to face me, her usual soft features turn dark at the site of me and something inside me instantly grows hot with worry.

"Katie I need you!"

Katie tucks the other man in before walking over to me, "Luke, what happened? Are you OK?"

"Reid, Katie, They took him away, do you know?"

"I know," she frowns, her blue eyes softer than usual.

"To Dachau?"

She looks down at her fingers and solemnly says, "Yes."

"It's just another hospital though, right? They transferred him there to help another patient. He'll be back like last time, right?"

Katie's eyes fell to the floor as she rung her hands, "Not this time, Luke."

My eyes well with immediate tears, "No, no I don't believe you. They wouldn't do that to their own people."

"I'm sorry, Luke." Something about the tone of Katie's voice makes my stomach twist in panic, like she knows more than she's telling me, that she has proof that it is as bad as the Commandant said.

"Tell me." I muster up all my strength to make my voice sound menacing and serious. "Tell me about Dachau."

"I don't know that much…"

"Katie please!"

"All I know is that before the war the Nazis began building camps, and then people would start disappearing from villages. I've heard rumors, and whispers between the Nazis and as far as I can tell they take people that they don't like and lock them up inside an electrified fence."

"Yeah, but I'm locked up and I'm the enemy. It doesn't make sense that they would take their own people and treat them worse than they would the enemy. I mean Dr. Gerhardt said that Reid would be lucky if he died. It doesn't make any sense!"

"Luke, look, it doesn't matter to them if we're German or not. You have to be the right type of German. That means blonde hair, blue eyes and not defective," she says the last part low in her throat.

"Defective? Reid is perfectly healthy, and brilliant, he's their best doctor why would they lock him up?"

"Because he's homosexual."

"What?"

Katie sighs, running her fingers through her long blonde hair before sitting at the edge of my bed. "The Nazis believe that homosexuals are defective."

"I know that, but how do they know Reid's homosexual? He'd never tell them, and Reid and I have been careful, no one's ever seen us together."

"I don't know Luke. All I know," she sighs with difficulty, looking at me with tears in her eyes, "is that you need to forget about him."

"No, there's no way I'd do that! There's no way they could have known. We've been careful, Reid warned me and we…" my stomach leaps to my throat as my heart plummets in my chest. Last night, in my haze of fever I demanded he kiss me. He told me no, he told me not to but I didn't know, I couldn't see… "Oh God, Reid!" The wail seemed as if it had been torn from my throat from the inner recesses of my soul. "No, no, no, no, they wouldn't do that!"

"It's best not to think about it." Katie bites her lip and pats my leg, which does nothing to calm my fears.

"It's all my fault, Katie! I made Reid kiss me! He didn't want to, he told me it was dangerous, but I needed him. I wasn't thinking, I didn't care, and I knew he'd do whatever I asked him to. Oh God I've killed him!"

"Luke, listen to me," Katie pulls me up by the shoulders, looking sternly into my eyes. "You didn't kill him, do you understand me? This is not your fault."

"Yes it is!"

"Luke you need to calm down." Katie looks around, my frantic cries having caught the attention of others who look on curiously.

"Katie I did this to him, it's my fault, I should be the one locked up and killed not Reid! He never did anything wrong except be with me, and that was my fault. He didn't want to, Katie listen to me he didn't want to why did they take him!"

Katie reaches in to her uniform pocket, her eyes vacant not registering my cries. She pulls out a syringe from her pocket and pushes the contents of it into my IV…

I open my eyes to bright lights and soft bed sheets. I am lying on my back, people rattle around me, their voices mixing into incomprehensible babble. I can feel a figure walk up to me, the white light fades and a shadow of a man appears.

"Hello, who is it?" My voice feels week, my eyes heavy as I try to open them. The figure says nothing, standing over me menacingly. Fear pops my eyes open to see Noah standing over me. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Noah, thank God you're here, I can really use a friend right now."

"I'm not your friend." He says briskly, "If I had known you were one of them I would never have been your friend."

"One of who?"

"Deviant homosexual."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw you."

"What?"

"Last night I saw you kiss Dr. Oliver through the curtain."

"You could see us? Oh God, that must be how the SS found out." I mumble to myself. "He told me no, he knew it wasn't a good idea but he did it anyway, and now he's paying the price, the price that I should pay. I should be the one to die in Dachau. I was the one foolish enough to think that I could kiss him like anyone else."

"You idiot, I told them."

My eyes jump up to Noah who stands grimacing above my bed, "You what?"

"The S.S. couldn't see you. I went to the Commandant and told him I had some important information he'd like to know about one of his doctors. I made a deal with him that if I told him he'd give me better treatment and rations and on the next POW swap I'd be on the truck out of here. I told you I didn't plan on staying."

"You son of a bitch!" I lurch up out of bed with all the strength I can muster, throwing my fist towards Noah's face.

Noah catches my wrist and throws it back in my face, "You try and touch me again and I'll tell them you're a Jew. American or not, they'll send you there too."

"You piece of shit!" I yell, although my words pale against the pure evil of Noah's actions. "You sent him there! Do you even know what happens? They're going to kill him!"

"Good! You all should die!"

My body shakes, sobs ebbing up my throat, "You're the one, Noah, you're the one who should die!"

"But it isn't going to be me, is it?" He says satisfactorily and marches away.

I burry my head in my hands as I cry, coughing and sputtering over the tears. I wish I could talk to Reid, tell him I'm sorry I never meant for us to get caught. I wish I could be there with him, no matter what kind of hell it is at least we'd face it together.

"Hold on, Reid, hold on please. I love you. I know I never told you but please know that I love you. I need you to feel it. Please Reid, please hold on."

/

**:( so sad. I told you Noah would be one of the worst people in the world.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Please ignore this chapter, it is awful. I had to get this story done by the end of tomorrow, so this isn't the greatest. It's something to get from point A to point B. The last 2 chapters are much better than this mess.**  
><strong><br>**Chapter 21 **  
><strong>  
>In the days proceeding Reid's capture my fever skyrocketed. It was as if my love for Reid was burning me from the inside out. The doctors stopped treating me, so Katie began sneaking me medicine Reid had prescribed. She gave me cold sponge bathes to bring down my fever and spoon fed me to keep up my strength. I spent a week in fever-induced dreams calling out for Reid. Katie would hold me and soothe me, but when that wouldn't work and my cries got too loud she would drug me to sleep. As soon as my fever broke and I could take care of myself, I left the hospital and returned to my barrack.<p>

I find my old bunk and throw the few personal items I had with me in the hospital on it. I notice the space beside me, where Noah would sleep, void of any blanket or personal items.

"Where's Noah?" I ask one of my bunkmates.

"He left."

"What do you mean, left?"

"Few days ago some S. S. came in here and took him away. Said something about a prisoner exchange with the Americans. Lucky bastard got to go back to the front."

I shake my head, falling down onto my old bunk bed. I laugh dryly, of course he gets out, of course he gets whatever he wants. He sends someone to his death and he gets to march across Germany and declare victory. He'll receive the Silver Star and the Golden Cross or whatever they gift people like him and be hailed as a hero. The oppressed people of Germany will fall at his feet in gratitude never knowing that if he had the chance he'd do the exact same thing to them as the Nazis. Unless he only holds that high honor for homosexuals.

I groan, reaching down into the boards of my bunk for Reid's letters. I freeze as my fingers touch only wood. That's right, I sigh pulling my hand up to rest on my stomach I ripped them all apart. The only thing I had from Reid I ripped to pieces in a fit of anger. I hold back the tears that threaten to fall. No, I have to be strong for him. Send him love, strength and hope, not anger and regret.

I curl up on my side into a ball, holding my arms around my knees pressing them to my chest. The world moves on, guys laugh and play cards. There is mail call but nothing comes for me, or they have decided to confiscate my packages now that they know who I really am. Americans march closer, air raid sirens blow, and every day I wait for the war to end and to go back home.

The frigid winter melts into a dreary spring. I spend my time walking around the compound aimlessly. Sometimes I sneak out at night for old times sake and visit Reid and I's place in the shadow of the latrine. During the day the boys' secret radios become unhidden and we listen freely to news from the front. Every day the Allies move in closer, liberating towns along the way. The S. S. in camp become nicer to us, counting on kindness to save them from whatever fate the American army holds for them. The auditorium and mess tent, once completely segregated now mingle German and American alike. The Germans speak of their families, how much they want the war to end now so they can go home and start to rebuild. Friendly report springs up amongst the Germans and Americans, but none of them talked to me. Like in the hospital where I was ignored and left to die, once again it seemed I no longer existed. Gossip travels fast through idle mouths. So at the wars end I kept to myself, sending Reid strength and praying for the war to end before he died.

And then one clear spring day American tanks rolled through the gates of Stalag Luft 1 and we were free.

/

**The name of the camp has no meaning, I tried to find the original camp I took the pictures from but I deleted the link I used, so I just picked a random camp name.**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22.

I jump off the last stair of the train, taking in a deep breath of musty yet familiar Chicago air. The smell of fresh rain, new grass and manure fill my nostrils and it's the best scent I've smelled in half a year. I hitch my duffle bag higher onto my shoulder, watching the crowds of service men run into the arms of their loved ones. They drop their packs on the platform and grab their wives and girlfriends, daring to kiss in public what normally they would keep in private.

I try to untangle myself from the hoards of people stopped right at the train door. I search for my father, not a tall man, but the tallest of our family.

"Luke!" I hear his familiar voice and my eyes fill with tears. Quickly I mirror everyone else and leave my duffle bag in the street as I run towards my family. My mother in her crisp white gloves and spring hat, my grandma as loving and comforting as ever. I see my siblings still recognizable but I swear have grown ten feet since last I saw them, and my father with his arms held open for me to fall into. I curl against his chest, holding on to his old brown corduroy coat that I used to wear as a kid when I wanted to play grown-up.

"I missed you all so much," I mumble into my father's shoulder. I feel hands around my back as my mother and grandma also wrap me in a hug. Ethan's arms come around my legs and I can hear Natalie's shrieks of joy through the muffled air around me.

"Come on sweetheart." My grandma claps my back after I have exchanged hugs all around. "Let's get you home, I cooked all your favorite foods!"

"Oh grandma, I haven't had real food since the last time I ate a meal at the farm."

"And you need to be fattened up!" She clasps her hands around my arm as my father lifts my duffle bag onto his shoulder. My mother has remained silent, but tears are flowing from her eyes, and Ethan and Natalie are dancing around my feet chirping about all the things I have missed on the farm while I was away at camp.

The farm looks the same, as if pulled off of a postcard marked home. The smell of budding maples and fresh cut grass fill the air until I walk into the kitchen and am hit by the smell of Grandma's pot roast, mashed potatoes, and the peach pie she made for me with fresh peaches she canned last summer.

"Sit down, Luke dear, I'll make you a plate."

"I'll take your stuff up to your room, we have it all ready for you!" Faith says.

"Luke did you bring me a present from camp?" Ethan asks, tugging on my jeans. I squatted down to face him, trying to think of anything I had with me from Germany. I was going to give Ethan the wooden toy horse that Noah had whittled for me for Christmas, but that now lays in dust on the abandoned streets of a liberated POW camp halfway around the world.

"Sorry buddy, I didn't get you a present."

"Phewy!" He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and giving me a sad lower lip.

"Ethan, Luke's home isn't that present enough?" My dad scolds.

"Well now you have to make it up to me. You have to take me to see the new Mickey Mouse cartoon."

"Anything, buddy," I ruffle his hair and pull him into a tight hug that he wriggles away from.

"Luke your room's all ready for you when you want to take a nap. I'm sure you're exhausted from the train ride," my mother says as she comes down the stairs.

"Sit, Luke," Grandma nearly pulls me off the floor and sits me in a chair before handing me the biggest plate known to man filled five inches high with food. "And there's dessert after that don't forget! I want you to eat all of it you are much too skinny!"

"Yes, grandma," I laugh, digging in. The most obscene moan escapes my throat as Grandma's homemade cooking makes contact with my tongue. Everything I'd eaten in month's taste of tin and metal. Her food was rich with spices and juicy, tender and scrumptious. I looked up from my plate to see my whole family staring at me expectantly.

"Um… could you maybe not stare?"

"Oh, of course Luke. I have to do some chores, kids why don't you help me?"

"But dad…" they protest as my father drags them out of the farm.

"I'll go put some of your things away," my mother worries her hands before climbing back upstairs.

"So, Luke how are you really doing?" Grandma asks.

"Better now that I'm home. Can I tell you a secret, Grandma that you can't tell anyone else?"

"Sure."

"OK, well, when I was injured I didn't go to any old hospital, I was captured and taken to a POW camp by the Nazis."

"Oh, Luke," she chortles, "You always had an imagination!"

"Grandma, I'm not joking. I've been in a POW camp since August."

Grandma looks at me sternly before her eyes start to go wide, "Why didn't you tell anyone!" She rushes to my side as if she can protect me now.

"I didn't want to worry you all. Anyway it wasn't that bad. They didn't treat me meanly or anything," I shrug, deciding that POW camp is one thing, and another to talk about the German I fell in love with who was then beaten and dragged to his death because of it.

"I'm glad you're safe now, honey," she kisses the top of my head and hugs my shoulders. "Now eat up or you'll hurt my feelings!"

"Of course, Grandma, it's delicious," I say before shoveling another forkful into my mouth.

Spring bloomed into a sweltering summer. The kids and I spent our days in the pond or at the theater. I watched the newsreels report stories from Germany. Watched as the true nature of the camps were revealed. I would cover the kids' eyes from the horror depicted on screen and hope that Reid was not among the piles of tangled corpses.

The squelching summer cooled into a mild winter. Snow fell in heaps and I spent my days making snow angels and having snowball fights. My dad hitched the horses up to our sleigh and my family would spend hours sledding through snow-covered words laughing and singing Christmas carols. At night, with a large mug of cocoa in my hand, I'd sit by the warm fire and gaze out the window. On clear nights it seemed each start twinkled even brighter than before, glittering off the snow fields like crystals and I'd wonder if Reid were gazing in wonderment searching for me in the same sky. I'd sing softly to myself through the night, "Some day my prince will come, some day we'll meet again."

1946 brought more days, more time, more seasons without Reid. There were times I'd think he was never real. During those days I'd lie on my bed and pull my shirt up, run my fingers over the scar across my stomach, the only physical proof I have that Reid is real. He marked me with his signature, "Reid was here," and I'd fall asleep dreaming of the days when his fingers would join mine and once again travel over the expanse of my skin.

Every night I light a candle in my window, hoping Reid will follow the flame home. For love is a flame beautiful and enchanting. Love starts with a spark then grows to a smoldering peace. Love can bring hope, like candles in a vigil. Love can bring serenity like campfires at Snyder Pond.

Like fire, love takes time for man to discover. Once discovered man cannot bear to think about functioning without it. Love is the fuel inside a man's heart to will him to survive. The flame that licks at his soul urging him forward when steps seem too painful and the future too dim, love lights the way. Like water to fire, distance is loves enemy. If you pull something apart far enough, like a rubber band it will snap.

There are special cases when the element refuses to die, like magnesium, which burns even underwater, some love is stronger than the forces put against it. No matter how much time passes, if we are reunited or never again, my love burns brighter than the candle I light for him. It burns brighter than the sun. Like the rays beating down on me from millions of miles away, my love will find Reid no matter the distance. I hope it warms him like the torch I hold inside for him warms me. My love is a flame and the candle I light for him is his guiding light home to me.

_**Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires. –Francois de La Rochefoucauld**_

**Yeah, I wanted the stuff with the Snyder's to be longer but I have to post 2 chapters today and have so much stuff to do before the hospital tomorrow (at 5:30 am no less!) so this is what you get, ha!**


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

The days are getting shorter, the nights colder as Earth recedes from the sun. Water sloshes over my stomach and the late afternoon sun dips below the trees setting the horizon on fire with flames of orange and pink. Snyder pond is a welcome relief from the muggy September air. I slide my fingers over my stomach, feeling the ridge of the scar across my belly, the mark of a talented artist etched into my skin forever. I feel the still tender skin beneath my fingertips and close my eyes, trying to remember the feel of Reid's fingers on my side, on my stomach, his lips against mine, his tongue, as my body ebbs and floats across the water.

I swim to the edge, lazily dragging my body out of the water and pull the towel I brought with me around my shoulders. I run my fingers through my wet moppy hair, plastering it down against my head. I grab my T-shirt and canteen of water I brought with me and head for the farm, looking forward to a cold juicy slice of home grown watermelon.

As I reach the clearing where the trees open up and dirt turns into stones of the driveway I freeze. Standing in front of the farmhouse looking quizzically around is Reid. I drop my clothes onto the driveway, the towel blowing off my shoulders as I pick up speed.

"Oh my God, Reid!" I am practically squealing with excitement. He has little time to turn around and see me before our bodies are attached. I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in his scent. I feel his arms come around my naked back and hold me tight. He breathes me in just the same.

Reluctantly I part him, my hands lingering at his sides, so I can get a good look at his eyes. They are darker than before but still in their shadow holds the spark I've held on to for over a year. His hair is longer, curlier and a faint beard crosses his chin. He's skinnier than he was before, but his fingers are as soft as I remember.

"You look hot."

I laugh, slapping his shoulder playfully, "That's the first thing you say to me?"

"What? That's a great first thing to say to someone. You're shirtless and dripping wet what else am I supposed to say?"

"You're unbelievable."

"Now that's a much better opening line than, oh my God, Reid!" he squeals, mimicking a girls voice.

"Hey!" I giggle, my eyes not knowing where to rest, looking over his body and his face, his hair and his eyes and his hands. I reach my hand up touching his thin cotton shirt, feeling his bones beneath it, his chest rise and fall with breath.

"I knew you'd make it, I knew you'd come find me, but how?"

"The second I was liberated from the camp I made my way with the other refugees onto a boat bound for America. I landed in New York and hitched rides across the country. I remembered you lived in Illinois in some town that started with Oak, so I started searching every Oak town in Illinois. When I got here and asked someone if she knew Luke Snyder, she said of course she knew the Snyder's, and then proceeded to tell me your whole family's life story, which on another day I have many questions to ask. When I finally got her to shut up she told me you'd be here, so here I am and here you are. "

I squeal, unable to formulate words to express my joy and complete astonishment. All I can do is jump on Reid again, holding him close against my body and reveling in the feeling of him breathing and not bleeding in my arms.

"Oh my goodness, I have to introduce you to my family!"

"No offense, Luke but can the family meet and greet happen later? As shocking as it is I'm a bit exhausted from my hitch hiking trip across your country."

"Of course. Come on, I'll sneak you up to my bedroom," I grin.

"Sneaking around again, ey?"

"Well it's our thing."

"I'd rather this be our thing," he grabs me by the waist, pressing our hips together. His mouth latches on to mine sucking eagerly. I open my mouth moaning mournfully needful as his tongue thrusts into my mouth. It feels as if no time has past. Our hands know where to touch, our hips grind against each other and our tongues are like a synchronized swim team. He pulls back with a deep breath and I can feel my cheeks burning and not from the heat.

"My bedroom," I breathe out heavily.

I pull Reid into the farmhouse, holding on tight to his hand so he can't slip away from me again. Reid's eyes gaze around the cozy kitchen, licking his lips at the food grandma left out for me before she went to church.

"Come on, up to my room and then I'll make you a plate."

"It all looks delicious," he groans, reluctantly following me up to my room. I feel embarrassed showing it to him, my cowboy sheets still on the bed, the wallpaper of yellow duckies from when I was a kid, and old favorite toys still sitting on the dresser.

"Nice place," Reid huffs letting himself spring on the bed, "no wonder you wanted to move to Germany. Just so you know, by the way, that deal is off the table, I'm never going back there again."

"I assumed. Now make yourself comfortable I'll be right back." I rush down the stairs and grab a plate, loading it up with sandwiches and watermelon and grandma's famous potato salad. By the time I get back up to my bedroom Reid is stretched out on my bed, propped up on the headboard reading one of my comic books.

"Here you go," I smile happily, handing him over the plate. He immediately digs in, no utensils necessary, as if he was used to eating like that. I shuttered to think and took my place beside him on my bed. I tried not to stare as he gobbled down the food like he hadn't eaten in years, maybe he hadn't.

Once Reid finishes he sets his empty plate aside on my bed table and turns to me. "I must meet the wonderful lady who prepares such food, unless that little lady is you," Reid laughs, pinching my side playfully.

"Stop it!" I can't help but continue to squeal, and slap his hand away.

"Never! Now that I've got you you're never getting away." Reid climbs above me and I stare deep into his ocean blue eyes. The air around us tenses, and slowly Reid brings his lips to mine.

The kiss starts off softly, his lips pressing against mine. I reach my hands up and twist them in his curls, arching my hips closer to his as he deepens the kiss. I roll us over so that we are lying on our sides, chests pressed together, mouths fused hungrily attacking one another. His hand runs down my still bare chest, dipping into my navel. I squirm against his touch both wanting to pull away and dive closer.

"Reid," I moan, lifting his shirt off his head before quickly attaching my lips back on to his. "Oh Reid I've missed you."

"Less talking, more kissing," he mumbles against the side of my neck. I giggle at the scratch of his stubble against my cheek. I roam my hands down his bare chest, feeling the bones that stick out of his skin but knowing that a few more platefuls of Grandma Emma's food will make them disappear.

"Reid please," I groan. My needy body arcs against him, I can feel my body harden, blood pooling in my groin. I slide my hand farther down Reid's chest, touching the top of his trail of hair.

"Mumph," he moans against my neck, capturing my hand and moving it back up his chest.

I giggle, once again moving my hand down, a bit lower this time, teasingly. Once again he grabs my hand with a moan and pulls it back up. I shift position so that I'm straddling him. I attach my mouth to one of his nipples. They are hard against my tongue and my hips begin to rut up against his leg.

"Luke, slow down," he is winded and breathless, but his hands keep roaming my body, and his lips keep finding my skin.

I slide my fingers down as my lips work their way across his chest to give his other nipple equal treatment. I slide my fingertips down the top of his pants, slowly pushing them down.

"Luke wait," he groans.

"No more waiting, waited too long," I sit back up, gazing down at his beautiful flushed face before leaning in and kissing him deeply, slowly, searching every corner of his mouth with my tongue as I move my hands back to his pants, down his thighs and up. I grab the metal button and unhook it, reaching for the zipper and slowly pulling down.

"Luke, stop!" Reid grabs my wrist harshly and pulls my hand away from his body.

"Reid what?" I look into his eyes they are far off and distant. He is not in the bedroom with me, but back in the concentration camp. Fear flickers over his beautiful irises.

"Reid, oh Reid," I frown, laying on my side beside him, gently stroking his arm. What an idiot I am. He spent months in a concentration camp terrified out of his mind, he's traumatized and I'm trying to get into his pants first thing? What an idiot. How stupid of me.

"Hey Reid," I call to him, trying to bring him back to the present and away from his horrible memories, "It's OK, you're safe now; my house is safe. The Nazis are gone. We can finally be together." I say gently, kissing his neck with every word, "No need to be scared. We can finally be together, free."

"No it's not that. I don't… I can't…"

"You can't what?" I look at the anguish and devastation in Reid's eyes and finally notice the sagging of Reid's boxers between his thighs that he tries to hide. "Oh my God." I whisper, remembering the commandant's words to me, i_The doctors will be practicing on him now_./i

"Please, Luke, don't."

"It's OK Reid, it's alright." I say gently, caressing the side of his face as he turns his head away from me. "I don't care, you hear me? I don't care." I can see the silver of tears threatening to drop from the corner of Reid's eyes, "Reid look at me, it doesn't matter." I palm his cheek and turn him so I can gaze into his beautiful blue eyes that are now fogged over in pain. "You came back to me alive, I don't care about anything else. Do you understand me, Reid?" Reid nods slowly, blinking a few tears down his skin. They are foreign to him and he reaches up itching the path they make down his face. "I love you." I coo as sweetly as I can, rubbing my hand comfortingly down his chest. "I love you."

Reid pulls his knees in up against his chest, rolling on his side and grabbing my arm to pull me in closer. I move against his body as he buries his face in my chest. I feel his body rock with sobs. All I can do to comfort him is kiss his head, stroke his back and gently curl his hair around my fingertips. It hurts my heart to hear, see, and feel him in so much agony, but there's nothing I can do but let him grieve for the things they've taken away from him. He grabs on to my back, pulling me closer, smashing his face against my chest as if he's trying to burrow inside me. I let him claw at me, dig his nails into my back and soak the front of my shirt with his heart wrenching sobs.

It takes twenty minutes before he slowly begins to pull away. His face is blotchy and swollen, his eyes red and puffy. I can see the stains the tears left on his skin. I wipe my hand across his cheeks and smile sadly at his beautifully tortured face.

"So you love me, huh?" He sniffles. I know his comment is to direct any questions away from what just happened.

"Yes, very much."

He nods, lying back on the bed, looking up at my ceiling, contemplation on his face. "Why?"

I shrug, propping myself on my elbow so I can look down at his face. "I could tell you all the superficial things about how hot your body is and how gorgeous your eyes are, and how I dream about your fingers and lips at night. I can tell you how much I admire your honestly, and your drive, and your brilliance, and how unapologetic you are about your life style and your opinions. I can tell you that you make me feel safe and that you take care of me, and that you make me laugh, but I can't tell you why I love you. It's there. It's simply there. This burning desire to be with you, to touch you, to talk to you, to make you laugh, to know how you're feeling, to be near you. It's always been there. It always will be there. I didn't start it, and I can't stop it. I don't want to."

Reid smiles sadly to himself, his eyes still trained on the ceiling, "I thought about you every night when I was in the camp. They could take away my… you know, but they could never take away my thoughts about you."

"And that," I say sliding down in bed and fitting my head in the corner of his arm and chest, "is why they'll never win. How can they end something that never started, but simply always existed?"

He turns his head towards me and chuckles, "Spare me your sentiment."

I giggle; glad to see the spark back in his eyes, burning away the fog of tears. "You haven't said it yet."

"What?"

"That you love me."

He gazes into my eyes, fierce and piercing. I hold my breath, allowing him to search my soul. "Loving you doesn't being to cover it." He leans in and presses his lips hard against mine. I moan, wrapping my hand at the back of his neck, shifting my body up against his.

"Mmph," he pulls back, touching my hip with his hand, pushing me back down on the bed. "Not yet."

I nod, kissing him again, "Whenever you're ready, I'm ready. More than ready."

He laughs again. I can tell from his eyes that it's freeing to his soul to let go like that, to feel happiness again. "I can tell."

"I always imagined that it would be you showing me how the first time."

"I can still show you how."

"I know." I glide my fingers slowly over his chest, gliding them softly over his nipples. I bite my lip before I speak again, there will be plenty of time to ask. I wonder how big it was, what it looked like, how it would have felt in my hand, between my lips.

We lay silent with each other for a few minutes. I caress his chest as he stares up at the ceiling in thought, before reaching into his pant pocket and pulling out a small piece of cloth.

"What's that?"

"It's a pink triangle. They put it on my uniform when I was in the camp. Everyone wore a symbol to distinguish the reason why they were imprisoned," he rubs the dirty faded cloth in his fingers.

"Why did you keep it?"

"To remind me. To remind me of what they did and to give me the drive I needed to find you."

"Wouldn't you be reminded every time you look between your legs?" Reid shot me a nasty look. "I'm sorry, but why keep something they branded you with that you don't have to hold on to? The scars they gave you, you can't erase, but you can throw that out."

"It's about taking it back, Luke. Owning it and showing them that I'm not afraid. They can brand me any way they want, they can take everything I care about away, but they can't change who I am or how I live my life. You said it yourself; they can't stop it because it never started. This is simply who I am and now I have the pink triangle to prove it."

"Were there, um, where there many of you?" I asked nervously.

Reid nods, rolling the pink triangle between his fingers. "Yeah, mostly pink triangles, some red ones and green ones, for the political prisoners and criminals. There weren't many Jewish people at my camp, they were shipped off to other camps, although right before the war ended groups would come marching through our gates. But yeah, mostly us."

I swallow at his grouping me in with them. If I hadn't been an American I would have been in the camp with him.

"I can't believe you waited for me," he laughs and it sounds strange in the seriousness of the moment. "If it were you I would have assumed you'd died."

"No you wouldn't have. I knew you were alive, I could feel it."

Reid turns his head to look at me very seriously. The heaviness of his gaze catches my breath. "I love you."

"I love you," I reply.

Reid lets the pink triangle drop from between his fingertips. Like a wilted leaf it settles to the floor. "They never stood a chance."

"No," I agree, brushing my lips gently against his. "Let's get some sleep, OK?" I kiss his lips before getting up to turn off my bedroom light.

I walk to the windowsill, watching the tree outside my window drop leaves of fire to the ground. I blow out the candle that reflects in the glass with one gentle puff. Reid and I are reunited, and with the reunion the flame of love I kept burning inside of me like a pilot light ignites our love with greater fervor than before. The candle is no longer necessary, Reid found his way home.


End file.
